#(scaring people unintentionally makes her feel very very hollow) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mizunetzu · 4 years

Note

YOURE DOPE ASS SHIT HOMIE <3333 can i get uuHHHhh mutha fuckin tanaka x femboy reader ?

HAHAHA SAY LESS I NEVER EXPECTED TO GET A TANAKA REQUEST IM-

——————

Tanaka x reader - one date wonder

⚠️ warnings - reader is referred to as a girl unintentionally, by Nishinoya in the beginning. Don’t worry, I assure you this is a Male Fic. Ta-ho.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

If there was one thing Tanaka hated, it was pretty boys.

They were so over hyped. Just because they have a handsome face, all of a sudden they’re the talk of the town. Especially if they had a skirt on and whatnot. What happened to personality?

“Oi oi Ryu!”

Tanaka didn’t notice Nishinoya shoving a phone towards his face. He continued skimming through the Miyagi volleyball weekly magazine. “If I see one more article about that prick Oikawa I’m gonna-“

“Ryu!” Nishinoya practically slapped Tanaka’s head with his phone. Tanaka yelped.

“Hell was that for?!”

Nishinoya wordlessly held up his phone uncomfortably close to Tanaka’s face.

A girl with (h/l), boyish hair and a pretty pink skirt stood tall on Nishinoya’s small phone screen. The girl had cute (h/c) hair, framing her face as she posed with her hand flexed into a peace sign.

She was totally his type.

“Apparently she goes to our school.” Noya giddily scrolled through the girls feed, careful not to accidentally like anything as to not be caught stalking her page. Tanaka exhaled.

“Dude...if I ever see her I think I’m boutta simp.”

“Riiiight?” Nishinoya held down his phone screen to let Tanaka in on the girls social media page.

———

Walking into class the next day, he ran into a horde of girls surrounding someone in the middle of the room. There seemed to be someone in the center, awkwardly chuckling and trying to say something, but it was drowned out but the vociferous squeals or questions thrown at them. Tanaka couldn’t quite make out the person’s face.

Stalking closer, trying to subtly peek from over the heads of the girls, the person’s eyes slowly panned over to him. They locked eyes. Something seemed oddly familiar about that person. He couldn’t quite place it, though.

The person’s eyes lit up and they wadded their way out of the horde and made their way to him. Upon closer inspection, the person was handsome, and wearing the boy’s gakuran. It made sense, he was being crowded around a bunch of girls gawking at his pretty face. He immediately puffed out his chest and scowled.

“Oi oi! Got a problem, pretty boy?”

“P-pre...” The person, who he now knew was a boy, flushed and shook his head. “A-anyways! Tanaka-kun, can...”

“C-Can you meet me in the school courtyard after class!”

The boy bowed suddenly, making Tanaka falter and step back. He awkwardly coughed. “Uh-sorry man, do I know you?”

Of course he knew him. He was that one popular second year in class 2-4 that every girl was throwing their panties at. He found it weird that he wanted to talk to him out of everyone.

“My name is (L/n) (Y/n)! I’m-im in class 4 but I...don’t think we‘ve ever spoken before...”

“Then why do you wanna meet up later? Do you needa tell me sumthin’? Can’t you just tell me now?”

“No!” (Y/n) puffed out his cheeks. For such a high strung popular pretty boy, he was acting pretty fumbly and flustered. “I can’t say it here-!”

“Uh...ok...see you there...?”

“Thank you!” (Y/n) smiled, walking through the eavesdropping girls and out the door.

Tanaka wondered why he looked so familiar. Oh well, it’s probably nothing.

———

Tanaka picked at his unbuttoned school uniform, standing under a cherry tree in the school courtyard. It took him every single ounce of his body not to just up and leave.

His ears perked up at the sound of rapid footsteps approaching him. There stood this boy from before, doubled over and heaving in front of him. Tanaka shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So-what’ja need, dude?” Tanaka tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. (Y/n’s) head snapped up, and he stiffly straightened upright.

“This is for you-!” He averted his gaze as he outstretched a pristine white envelope to Tanaka with both hands, a cute little heart sticker sealing the opening flap shut. Tanaka blinked once. Twice.

Did a girl ask him to give this to him? Wait, why would this pretty boy who probably thought he was some ruffian scum randomly be giving him this love letter? Was he trying to make fun of him? Did he think that he didn’t get love confessions because he wasn’t a popular pretty boy like him?

“Oi, you tryna mock me or something? Tryna make fun of me pretending a girl wanted you to give this to me?” Tanaka puffed out his chest, tilting his chin up. (Y/n) paled.

“No! No! This-“ (Y/n’s) grip on the letter tightened, crumpling the smooth paper ever so slightly at the corners. “This i-is a real letter...f-from me to you, Tanaka-kun...!”

Tanaka blinked again. Huh? Huh?!

“I like you, Tanaka-kun! I know it’s weird because you don’t know me and I’m really popular and ‘wow why is this popular dude talking to me haha and why is he so awkward’ but I really wanted to tell you and-“

(Y/n’s) phone buzzed. He stopped in his tracks, and fished his phone out of his black school pants. Tanaka, even though he knew he shouldn’t, peeked over his head a bit, trying to see what was on his phone.

Powering it on, a picture of a girl with boyish hair and pink overall-skirt popped up on screen, holding up a peace sign near her eyes. That girl looked familiar.

Oh! That was the girl that him and Noya were fawning over the other day! Now that he thought about it, the girl and (Y/n) looked very similar. Like, very, very, similar. Same hair, same eyes, same everything...

That’s when something clicked in Tanaka’s head.

(Y/n) clicked out of his Home Screen and shot a quick text to someone on his phone. He pocketed it once more.

“A-anyways, sorry Ta-“

“Are you a crossdresser?!”

“Cr...” (Y/n) sputtered. Tanaka pointed bluntly at (Y/n), eyes widened in disbelief.

“No! No I’m not! I...why can’t I wear feminine clothes without being called a crossdresser...”

(Y/n’s) shoulders slumped over. Stagnant air surrounded them as (Y/n’s) nimble fingers dropped the letter carelessly, letting it flutter towards the ground gracefully.

‘Fuck. Fuuuuck. Me and my big mouth...’

Tanaka awkwardly cleared his throat. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry, man! There’s no harm in um...wearing that-! Shit, uh. How can I make it up to you?”

(Y/n) smirked. He slowly raised his head up. He held out his pointer finger.

“You can make it up to me by going out on a date with me.”

Tanaka deadpanned. Treacherous pretty boy snake. “Wh-“

(Y/n) clasped his hands together. “Please! Just one! And we don’t even have to hold hands or anything! After that it’s done! It’s just-“

“F-fine.”

(Y/n) looked up. “Really...?”

“I mean, it wasn’t cool of me to call you a crossdresser, so if it’s just one...”

“All right!”

———

The date went by like a dream. Even if Tanaka didn’t harbor much feelings for (Y/n), he still enjoyed eating free food.

Though, he couldn’t help himself from occasionally staring at (Y/n). Not because he had something on his face of anything,

But because he was wearing a a high-waisted black plaid skirt with a belt secured snuggly on his waist, with a slightly baggy baby pink sweater that looked comfortable enough to sleep in. And to top it all off, a small kitty hair clip pinning some loose strands of hair behind his ear.

He looked exactly like he did on his social media. Tanaka gulped.

Even if he was a guy, he couldn’t help but notice how his skin seemed to glow off the fabric of his sweater, or how his skirt complimented his body perfectly.

“U-uh, (L/n)-san?” Tanaka was trying to be as respectable as he could. (Y/n) stopped eating mid bite and waiting for him to go on.

“Why do you uh, pose as a girl on social media if you don’t want people thinking your a girl..? No offense, I mean? Just wonderin’, y’know.” Tanaka took a huge bite out of his food to occupy his running mouth.

“Oh.” (Y/n) pulled up his phone and booted up his profile on social media. “It says in my bio that I’m a dude. So, it’s kind of the persons fault if they mistook me as a girl, but I don’t mind if they do...! I think I look pretty...”

Tanaka flushed. Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t deny it. He was kinda cute when he tried hiding his blushing face behind his chopsticks. But he wouldn’t say it out loud. It’s like he liked him or anything, no. Definitely not!

———

Next day at school, Tanaka felt a strange sort of emptiness in his chest. It felt hollow, like he was coming off a high and dealing with the consequences. And he had no fucking clue why.

“Dude...I feel so depressed...” Tanaka slumped over a box in the club room, sighing dramatically. Nishinoya hummed while scrolling through (Y/n’s) profile, once again.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Tanaka glared holes into Noya’s side, until Noya finally looked up from his phone.

“Dude, why’re you glaring at me-“

“Help me with my baggage I’m feelin’ depressed and I don’t know why!” Nishinoya sighed, before smiling widely and standing up with his chest out.

“Ok. Doctor Nishinoya here. What seems to be the problem, good sir.”

Tanaka snickered. It was Nishinoya’s turn to glare at him.

“So, I went on a date with this gu-, um, girl, and I only went because I promised, so now I don’t know why I’m feeling so sad.”

“Liaaar. Siiiiimp.”

“Shut up!” Tanaka barked at Nishinoya. “I’m tellin’ the truth here!”

“Well,” Tanaka gave Nishinoya a look to go on. Noya clicked a pen he found on the club room floor and adjusted his non-existent glasses. “Sounds like you caught feelings, dude.”

Tanaka sputtered. “I-I couldn’t have!”

“You totally could.”

“Could not!”

“You could”

“Not!”

“Why not, then?” Nishinoya crossed his arms.

“Because the person I went on a date with is a dude!”

Nishinoya choked on air. Tanaka covered his mouth. Noya sighed.

“Well, maybe you’re just a lil’ gay then.”

“I’M NOT!”

——

Ok, maybe he was. Just a little bit. A teeny weeny bit.

Tanaka found himself standing outside the 2-4 classroom, and he frankly didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he was so nervous too. He was really, really scared to go inside. But he wouldn’t show it.

Which is why he was leaning on the wall across from the door, with a scowl on his face and a suffocating, intimidating aura around him. Ennoshita walked out of the 2-4 classroom, before immediately being drowned in Tanaka’s scary presence.

“Jesus Christ Tanaka-kun, you scared the hell out of me!” Ennoshita rubbed his eyes. “Anyways, did you need something? Were you waiting for me or something?”

Tanaka’s face relaxed. “Uh! Actually I-I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, so I’m just gonna-“

“Tanaka-kun?”

Shit.

Tanaka slowly turned around. Standing in the classroom door frame was (Y/n), holding a bento and looking directly at Tanaka.

“Oh-! Sorry, sorry, please give me a second-ah-!” (Y/n) excused himself from his growing horde of female classmates, worming his way out of the classroom.

“What are you doing here?”

Tanaka’s mouth ran dry. Nishinoya’s voice rang in his ear.

‘Well, maybe you’re just a lil’ gay then.’

Fuck! Maybe he was. But fuck.

“U-uh...” A million thought went through Tanaka’s head, and went blank at the same time. It was the same feeling he gets whenever he looked at Kiyoko. The same tingly, warm, simp-y feeling.

Ennoshita looked between the two, before gasping in realization. “Oh. Oh! So-uh, I’m gonna...head to practice-Daichi said he needed me for something bye-!”

Ennoshita whispered a “Tell him.” in Tanaka’s ear as he walked by, then promptly disappeared behind a wall. Tanaka looked back at (Y/n).

“Um...h-hi...”

‘Fuck! Stop stuttering!’

Tanaka leaned against the wall, trying to seem as cool and suave as he could. (Y/n) put his hands in his pockets.

“Did’ya need something from me?”

‘Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.’

Shut up, Ennoshita! Tell him what, exactly? He didn’t know if he was even sure about his feelings or not.

“So...about our um...date a few days ago..” Tanaka also shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Ah! You’re here to tell me it was weird going out with a guy! Or that it was weird going out with a guy in a skirt! I’m-“

“No! No! Not at all!” Tanaka blurted out. (Y/n) let his mouth fall shut.

“I just...” Tanaka pursed his lips. “...Maybe we could, I dunno, go out on...another date.”

“Really?!”

Tanaka flushed and furrowed his brows. “Y-Yeah! You got a problem with that-!”

“Yeah! I mean no! I mean I’d love to go!” (Y/n) grasped onto Tanaka’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “Are you free this Friday at around 8?”

“‘Course I am!”

“It’s a date, then, Tanaka-kun.”

——————

Epilogue:

“No way your going out with her.”

“Him.” Tanaka corrected, pointing at Nishinoya’s phone. An image of (Y/n) holding up a cat he found on the street in an oversized sweater was on screen. “It’s a dude. And he’s my boyfriend.”

Nishinoya stopped walking. Tanaka raised his eyebrows.

“You’re such a liar, dude-“

“Tanaka-kun!”

A voice rang out, with growing footsteps approaching behind them. Both Tanaka and Nishinoya turned around, though with the dark moonlight it was hard to see who it was.

Someone wearing a skirt, tucked in shirt, and Karasuno jacket stopped behind the two. Tanaka smirked triumphantly what Nishinoya gawked, looking between his phone and the person.

(Y/n) smiled. “Are we still on for our date today? I know it’s kinda late...”

“Course we are, babe.” Tanaka smugly wrapped his arm around (Y/n), making sure Nishinoya saw. Noya’s mouth fell open.

“HOLY-WHAT THE FUCK! RYU, HOW’D YOU-“

“To be honest I don’t really know either.”

——————

#haikyuu tanaka #tanaka ryuunosuke #hq tanaka #tanaka x reader #tanaka x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x male reader #hq x male reader #haikyu x male reader #haikyuu boys

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jessbeinme15s-notebook · 3 years

Text

This is home

Gin Akutagawa

Warnings: heavy angst, themes of child abuse, blood and gore mentions, Tachihara being unintentionally really mean, Ryuunosuke faints, lots and lots of angst.

She felt tired. tired and sad. Gazing around her pristine apartment, she chose to just crash on the kitchen chair

Often I am upset that I cannot fall in love but I guess

This avoids the stress of falling out of it

She remembered the time she looked up to the boy who saved from getting beaten up her when her brother was away. After watching him get butchered right in front of her, she decided never to do something as stupid as falling in love

Are you tired of me yet?

She could hear Tachihara whining about being paired with someone as creepy as her

"I'm a little sick right now but I swear

When I'm ready I will fly us out of here"

Saying this, Ryuu-nee collapsed, drenched in a pool of his blood

"I'll cut my hair"

She hated it. But Ryuu-nee didn't.

To make you stare

She remembered the men being very confused to see this new figure greeting them, instead of the frail boy with ivory tipped hair

I'll hide my chest

And I'll figure out a way to get us out of here

A small, masked, spiky haired, lithe figure ran towards the men, brandishing a knife. She remembered the pure rage burning through her as she looked down at the blood on her hands, them shaking with rage

Turn off your porcelain face

That was the first time she wore a mask, she reminisced

I can't really think right now in this place

She thought back to just a few days before that day, when someone tried to knock her out

There's too many colors enough to drive all of us insane

The children, caught in chokeholds, began seeing things

Are you dead? Sometimes I think I'm dead

She felt hollow. and empty. She wondered if ryuu-nee felt the same sometimes

'Cause I can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head

Screams begging for mercy came rushing forward to her already heavy head

But I don't wanna fall asleep just yet

Though her eyes felt heavy, there was no slumber in them. Her head throbbed, aching with the pain of fleeting, haunting memories

My eyes went dark

She looked across the room, gaze fixing at the full length mirror in disgust

I don't know where

My pupils are

She could barely see her face in the mirror, majority of it being covered by the repulsive piece of clothing she wore

But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here

She wondered if there was any way at all from this hell she called her life

"Get a load of this monster

He doesn't know how to communicate"

"Damn it Gin, say something, would you?"

"The silent assassin from the port mafia, co commander of the black lizard, so mysterious" Tachihara mocked

His mind is in a different place

Deep down, all she saw was a scared little girl

Will everybody please give him a little bit of space

People moved as far away as they could from the child covered in filth and rags

Get a load of this train-wreck

She could see her younger self lying on the floor, bruised and covered in muck

His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet

Her hair tickled her nape, as if reminding her of its existence

But little do we know, the stars

Welcome him with open arms

She could provide for both herself and her brother now. They suffered a little less, at least being able to afford food now. She felt a little better, letting out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding. She was breathing. Ryuu-nee was alive. That's all that mattered

Time is

She slipped her jacket off, peeling the mask from her face

Slowly

She undid her hair, watching it fall past her shoulders. She could feel Ryuu-nee's gentle hands carding through it, admiring how soft and sleek it was. She was glad she didn't cut it now.

Tracing his face

She looked at her face, allowing herself a sad smile

But strangely he feels at home in this place

Tears glistened on her pale cheeks, unwiped. She was alive. She was safe for now. She was okay.

Why am I this way I just want to write something nice and comforting for once by nooooo

Taglist

@dazaisdeathwish @bsdparadise @missrown @kiyokoxd @kittydripuwu (Ik I didn't ask you so pls tell me if you want to be removed) @internetkilledtheroxstar @shadyteacup @its-chuuya-bitch @the-wholesome-ranpo @cross-crye (I haven't asked you too pls tell me if you don't want to be tagged) @jadegreenimmortality @greenshirtimagines @alittlesimp @whorefordazai @atsushiscocksucker (pls tell me if you want to be removed) @paradise-creator @requiem626k @pompompurin1028 @bsdwhore @sexy-bee-juice @jessbeinme15

sorry if I missed anyone out TwT

#Spotify #bungou stray dogs #bsd #anime #bsd fanfic #bsd fanfiction #bsd imagines #bsd gin #gin akutagawa #black lizard #bsd black lizard #JESS WRITE SOMETHING OTHER THAN ANGST OR IMMA BEAT YOU UP #jess writes stuff #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa #akutagawa siblings #akutagawa sibling supremacy #original poest

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Promise

Anthony (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Death scenes, Grief, Housefire, Angst, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance

Summary: Sneaked glances and pass-by smiles are often times the start of the most beautiful of love stories. Sadly, many of those stories end too quickly, too soon for the souls in love to be able to enjoy them. This is the story of Y/N and Anthony. The love story that started with a promise and ended in flames.

Requested by @niksoiio Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I apologize for taking so long, but here it finally is! I know how excited you were for this fic, so I hope it fulfills your expectations and doesn’t let you down! Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Never is a love story as pure as one long awaited to commence. The souls patiently waiting to intertwine, the emotions dying to shine through more than just glances and secret smiles. Feelings to mix, collide and dance together, creating a symphony of a lifetime. The symphony of love that lives beyond the end of the very souls that sparked it.

This is a love story, a story of loss, and a clear example, proof that a love simply doesn’t die. It’s an everlasting flame - burning brighter than the one that attempted to destroy it.

~~~

“You seem restless tonight.“ Anthony walks into the living room, placing a cup of hot cocoa on the coffee table in front of Y/N who’s reading the back cover of the book he has been keeping himself busy with lately.

Y/N has been Tanya’s friend since they met in middle school. When their friendship carried over into high school, that’s when her and Tanya’s adoptive brother Anthony met. They instantly became friends, sharing their love for thrillers and murder mysteries, similar taste in music and relatively similar personalities - the quiet peacemakers. The lovers, not fighters. Well, not fighters unless necessary. They are both protectors with many people they care about and would do anything to keep them safe. The two of them are pretty similar that way.

Very compatible, as some would say. Tanya being the first to notice the connection between two of the closest people in her life. Knowing the shyness of the two and their self-doubt, she chose not to speak up about it until spoken to, expecting them to take ages to finally see what’s been going on between them. Guess she wasn’t far from the truth.

On this night Y/N and Tanya were supposed to spend their time studying together for the last exam of the semester before Christmas break began. They have agreed to meet at the Clarke house at six PM in the afternoon which has long passed and Tanya is still yet to return from the date she went on with her boyfriend Vince. She promised Y/N she’d make it home by six, but now it’s eight and there’s no sign of her whatsoever. A snowstorm started slowly taking over the town approximately two hours ago, probably the reason behind her friend’s absence, but to Y/N’s dismay, also the reason she’d have to spend the night at the Clarke household because her parents wouldn’t be able to collect her in this weather, especially not with the run-down car they drive.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She nods in gratitude at the boy who sits down on the couch next to her as she takes the mug containing the hot beverage with as firm of a grip as she can muster with her shaky hands.

She has indeed been restless since she arrived. Walking into the house, apart from Anthony who had let her in, the first person she saw was the youngest member of the family - Megan. The little girl has never done anything to her in particular, but there has always been something about her that has unnerved Y/N. Something in her eyes and demeanor, how empty and hollow her gaze was, almost like she was looking through people and objects instead of at them. The smile she sent her as a greeting sent chills down her spine, leaving her hands and knees shaky and her body jittery as if the house was colder than the outdoors. The thought that she’d have to sleep in this house made her stomach clench with discomfort, a sickening feeling of wrong taking over her mind and body.

“Maybe it’s the exam. You know, if Tanya doesn’t make it, I can help you. It’s not a difficult subject, after all.“ Anthony attempts to reassure her, giving her a sympathetic look as he takes a sip of his own cup.

She gives him a soft smile and another nod of appreciation for his offer, “No, it’s not that. Or at least I think it isn’t. Exams don’t make me nervous until after I’ve finished them, if that makes sense.” She giggles weakly, basking in the warmth of the porcelain cup in her ice cold hands. It doesn’t have much of an effect though - instead of warming up her skin, her hands are basically cooling the drink and she still feels as tense and endangered as ever. “But a study partner could be pretty useful, thank you.”

After finishing the rather disappointing movie they found on TV as well as their drinks, they make their way to Anthony’s room to actually get some studying done because, judging by the nearing of nine PM and the constant lack of her friend, she wouldn’t be returning on time. Anne attempts to offer them before they go, an offer which they turn down in favor of making the most of the time they have left before their brains would require rest for the day.

“You see, I get that it’s far less complicated than it seems, but I’m terrible at paying attention in classes, let alone at taking notes.“ Y/N admits while they take a short ten minute break between note-reading and revising the chapters they’ll have an exam on the following day.

Anthony’s eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that? I mean, the professor isn’t boring. Not to me, at least.“

She shakes her head, “No, no, far from it. The rare time’s I’ve managed to focus I quite enjoyed the lectures. But I tend to get too stuck inside my head to hear anything else. My brain gets overwhelmed by the future, by what’s gonna happen five minutes, five days or maybe even five years from the present moment. I sometimes get so lost in those thoughts that I end up...this is gonna sound weird, but I feel like I end up living them.” Somewhere along the lines she could no longer hold his gaze, embarrassed and afraid of how his opinion of her might change with this newly revealed information.

However, much to her surprise, when her eyes meet his again he’s looking at her with nothing but intrigue and child-like curiosity. No amusement or humor or mocking, just wondering, hoping to find out more. Little does she know, that’s how he always looks at her when she is facing the other way. “That’s so interesting. I guess the real question is: Do the things you imagine ever end up coming true?” It was said with a lighthearted smile with the intention of easing the tension in her, calming her nerves, but he had unintentionally struck a chord.

She nods her head, her eyes widening slightly, “Well that’s the weirdest part - they do. Almost all the time unless I do something to prevent it. It freaks me out every time.” An aura of fear surrounds and inhabits her as her gaze wanders away from his again, this time subconsciously, “It scares me so much, Anthony. I know something’s terribly wrong with me. I’m a freak of nature or...I don’t even know what. I just know it’s bad. And I probably shouldn’t have told you all of this cause you now won’t ever look at me the same, you will avoid me. Call me crazy behind my back. I see why but-...”

Before the petrified girl could continue rambling, Anthony takes hold of her hands, firm and comforting. The sudden, unexpected contact of their hands silences her, freezing her eyes on his as she breathes heavily in hopes to stabilize her rapid heart and far worse shakiness. With his hands holding hers, she feels protected, guarded from whatever the future may hold and from the very fact that she could probably find out if she tried. For once though, she doesn’t feel like she has to. She doesn’t need to see what will happen and prepare, she trusts it won’t be so bad as long as she has this boy holding her by the hands, looking at her with such softness in his green orbs staring back at her.

“But that’s all nonsense, Y/N. I’d never say something behind your back, especially not something meanspirited or ill-willed. You...“ he trails off, hesitating for just a moment longer, deciding against prolonging this grey area his feelings have been locked in for far too long as it is, “You are very important to me, more than you know. I could never see you as anything but amazing, mesmerizing. You’re you, Y/N. And that’s why....“ Hesitation and doubt make one final attempt at beating his courage bloody. Much like last time, they fail and Anthony carries on, “That’s the reason I’ve fallen in love with you, Y/N. Quirks, oddities, they are all beautiful cause they are yours. And I love them cause they make you who you are.“

He has somehow managed to turn the tables on her, leaving her to be the speechless one despite her having just revealed her freaky ‘abilities’ to him. What looks like a fiasco in her mind he’s made seem like a perfectly put together kaleidoscope. Like every piece of her shattered courage and bravery is back in it’s spot. Although he’s somewhat managed to put her together, she’s still a long way from being whole, which is why words have failed her now. She hasn’t felt so complete in so long, and now the final piece missing is that response that just refuses to leave her chest.

Seeing her stunned as she is, Anthony feels the need to apologize, justify his out-of-the-blue confession that startled her so much, “I know I should’ve you sooner, or at least picked a better moment but-...”

It’s her turn to cut him off though her method is much more efficient - silencing him by pressing her lips against his. Though caught off-guard, Anthony is quick to respond to it, kissing her back with the same amount of love she’s put in on her end.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m so sor- WHOA!“ The two pull apart at the sound of the familiar female voice that has suddenly filled the room. Tanya has picked the worst of moments to be coming home, and she’s more than aware of it. Despite feeling guilty for interrupting her brother and best friend’s moment, she’s also glad she didn’t miss it. After all, she’s been watching the two suffer in silence, pining for each other since the start of their high school freshmen year and even now that they’re in college. They’ve been quiet about their feelings for more than four years and she can’t be happier to finally see the prophecy fulfilled. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for you two to finally succumb to your hearts and turn those lame brains you have off?! Oh this is a relief like no other.” The older girl laughs, pleased with the outcome of four years of looking on at two very important people in her life adoring one another and not saying a word. Needless to say, she’s proud of them.

“Do you know what knocking is, Tanya?“ Anthony is the first to recover from the initial shock of his sister’s appearance.

“Only in theory. Not in practice.“ She replies sarcastically, giving a pleased smile that speaks volumes of how her spirits have been lifted all thanks to them. “I’ll go downstairs, pretend I didn’t see what I saw, make myself a cup of tea to warm up and when I come back I want to see that you two have pulled yourselves together. Your faces are burning red.” She instructs, backing out of the room but not before fixing them a narrow-eyed warning look.

She wasn’t wrong - they are indeed blushing a deep red and all they can do is smile when they look at each other, giggling a tiny bit.

Suddenly, Y/N’s eyes widen as though she has just remembered something of great importance. “Wait.” She mutters, more to herself than to Anthony. Her hand swiftly slides the ring off the middle finger of her left hand and offers it to Anthony, “Here.” The boy takes it hesitantly, turning it between his fingers as gently and cautiously as he can as though the ring would crack if his grip became any firmer. “By taking in, you’re making a statement, a promise. A promise that you won’t change your mind about me...about us by tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or by next week.” She’s unable to look at him yet again, instead focusing on her fidgeting hands rested in her lap.

After a brief moment of contemplating, Anthony hands her back the ring, “I don’t need to make a promise, I know I won’t change my mind. You could look into the future and see for yourself too.” He tells her reassuringly, a sweet smile on his face to show the lightheartedness of what he’s said, afraid it might be offensive to her if he didn’t clarify.

She shakes her head, “For once in my life I don’t want spoilers for the future. I’ll just let it play out. I’ll see it when it happens.” She pushes the ring back to him, “But I still want you to keep this. A reminder, if not a promise. A reminder that I promise to love you for a very long time.”

A warmth spreads throughout his chest, the wholesomeness of the moment having reached to his heart and soul. He curls his fingers over the ring protectively, “Alright, I’ll take it. As a promise that I too promise to love you for even longer.”

The strings of emotion connecting them are slowly being pulled, bringing them closer once again. They both lean in, ready to feel that incredible magic of a love-filled kiss another time.

“Consider this me knocking! My hands are kinda full so just open the door if I can come in!“ Lips less then an inch apart, they’re interrupted by the shout coming from the other side of the bedroom door.

The young pair laugh, accepting that their moment will have to be postponed before Anthony goes to let his sister, who’s carrying a cup of tea and some snacks, in. All Y/N can think about is how much happiness she’s found so unexpectedly, in a place she was all but willing to stay at. Life is full of surprises and unforeseen moments, so many things one can never predict. And even though Y/N can predict them, now she’d rather not. She now understands the importance of surprises in life and she wants to cherish them properly.

* * *

Flames, fear, screams, shouts, cries. All painted on the backs of her eyelids. The mortifying images playing out in front of her jolt her awake.

A nightmare, it’s just a nightmare, she tells herself.

But upon opening her eyes she is met by the misty darkness of the smoke-filled room her and her best friend are currently in.

A nightmare that she could’ve predicted and warned the others about.

“Y/N, get out of the window! I need to find Megan!“ Tanya tells her urgently, ushering her towards the windowsill, “Go! Anthony will catch you!“

Looking down at the snow*covered yard below, she sees Anthony’s figure, motioning for her to jump. She can barely hear him over the ringing and thumping in her head but she trusts him. She believes she’ll be ok if she chooses to rely on him. So, following both his and his sister’s instructions, she jumps, falling into his arms. For a few moments it’s all blank around her and in her head. She wonders if it’s just the feeling of the fall or the fact that she could’ve died so easily. Or maybe the close proximity to Anthony. Either way his whisper wakes her up from the blank trance she has fallen into.

“It’s ok, I got you.“ He steadies Y/N on her shaky feet, taking her head and leading her to the front of the house.

The next few minutes are a show of nothing but horror and pain. Her and Anthony witness it together, unable to do anything but look on as ever member of the Clarke family, one by one, has life escaping their bodies in the most brutal of ways: Tanya and Megan never made it out of the house; Mr. Clarke was caught under the fallen ceiling in the living room and Dennis was the worst, having impaled himself on the fence below the attic window.

They saw it all happen. They couldn’t do anything. Fear-ridden, powerless and helpless, frozen in their spots by the horrifying scenes playing out in front of them. With tears brimming her eyes and blurring her vision and her knees almost completely giving out, Y/N felt a little bit of her die with each member of the family. A large chunk of her died along with them. She can only imagine how Anthony feels.

“Mom...“ The distressed boy mutters, “Mom’s still in there! Mom!“ Before she could stop him, he’s running towards what used to be the front door of the house and into the burning hallway.

Y/N’s heart drops, adrenaline and the primal instinct to save the person she loves kicking in bringing her legs to life, carrying her forward. “Anthony no!” A loud cry of desperation leaves her aching chest.

She too enters the hallway, surrounded by the overwhelming heat that feels like it’s burning her skin off. She doesn’t dwell on that though, instead she lunges forward, hands grabbing at Anthony’s arm with all her might and yanking him back with as much strength as she has left. Thankfully, it’s enough to send the boy stumbling back, falling on the snow out in the yard, falling to safety just in time.

Just when the ceiling in the hallway collapses. Directly on top of Y/N.

Like the last breath had been drawn out of Anthony’s lungs. Like his last hope had just been shredded to pieces.

Like his life ended along with her, his heart severed and plucked out of his chest, thrown into the flames.

He bows his head, uncontrollable cries leaving his body, each feeling like a punch to the gut - oh so painful and oh so dreadful. As though his very soul is draining from his body with each scream of agony. Then he spots the shimmer in the snow, the twinkle in his darkened vision.

The promise ring that had fallen out of his pocket, its smooth, gleaming surface unharmed, reflecting the raging flames in front of him. Its statement, its meaning standing stronger than ever - an everlasting love. A brightly burning flame ignited by two souls so adored by each other. And even though one of the flames that started the fire has been extinguished, the fire of love hasn’t wavered.

The ring is sending him a message:

This is far from the end of his love. Far from the end of hers either. When two souls intertwine the way theirs have, the bond cannot be broken.

* * *

Half a century has passed and Anthony has never missed the day - each year gracing the town of Little Hope with his presence to commemorate his late family and loved one, bringing a flower to each of their graves.

Survivor’s guilt still haunts him. That night’s events still keep him up at night and the images still seep into his dreams. However, now he has a way to cope with it. He writes. He writes in a diary but in such a way that it’s composed of letters. Letters addressed to different members of his family though the majority are love letters for Y/N. He tells her about his day, how he wishes she were by his side, how he whishes they had more time or acted on their feeling sooner.

How he loves her even more now, how they have remained connected.

“Funny how we haven’t run into each other before. Fifty years and this is the first time I’m seeing you here.“ The deep male voice startles him, “I knew we’d run into each other eventually.“

It’s Vince, Tanya’s boyfriend - the person who’s been placing the flowers Anthony find on Tanya’s grave every year. He always assumed it was him, another man forever in love with the soul that is left to linger after its body vanished. Another man chained by a memory, one he wouldn’t escape even if he could. He still loves Tanya, no doubt about it, and he wishes to never stop loving her. Him and Anthony are rather similar that way.

“Though it was you. No one else knows Tanya’s favorite flowers.“ Anthony motions to the bouquet of white flowers in Vince’s hands, “Surprised you’re still here.“ He knows it’s not the wisest thing to say to a man who’s suffering down the same road of guilt and grief - the road only lit by the everlasting love that has remained in his heart as well as Vince’s.

“Surprised you haven’t stopped coming around.“ He replies though they both know what’s insinuated - they understand why neither of them can let go. They’re bound to bodiless souls that reside here. They are both more than determined to stay as close as possible to those souls they are so hopelessly in love with. Vince’s eyes trail down to Anthony’s hand which is holding the bouquet he was going to place on his sister’s grave. He catches the glint of a ring on his finger, “You’re married?”

The promise ring. He’s chosen to wear it in place of a wedding ring. It is not only a way to cope but it’s exactly what him and Y/N agreed on all those years ago - a reminder that they’ll love each other for a very long time. For forever.

“Yes. I’m married.“

He indeed is - to Y/N and the memory of her. To her soul that his will forever be connected to.

@artlovingbre @sparrow-gg @megandaisy9

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evendeadlmthehero · 5 years

Text

The Five Year Promise: The Outcome (10/10)

Summary: Y/N Stark, a 20 year old superhero, makes a promise to a 16 year old Peter Parker that if five years pass and she still hasn’t found love, that they’d go on their first date. And then, the snap happens; Y/N’s gone and Peter isn’t.

Warnings: angst, violence, swearing

The Five Year Promise Masterlist

Based on the events of Avengers: Endgame and Spider-Man: Far From Home (2023)

The black fabric of your clothing caressed your skin as you sat against the cold couch. This was your home, apparently. A place you were unfamiliar with due to your five year absence. You felt a vacant void within your mind, a feeling of anguish everytime someone had smiled at you in pity.

So many heroes who you have not met. Some of them with powers beyond compare. Some of them were able to fly, shoot lightning, have super strength, telekinetic abilities, alterfication in size and other powers you have not seen yet. But somehow, the cruel and momentous villian that the Universe has ever been exposed to was defeated by your father; a human.

It had not made sense to you. You tried to make it make sense when you had spoken with Dr Strange. But the man looked at you in guilt and sadness, repeating the same thing everytime you asked him why.

“It was the only way.”

It didn’t make sense. Surely Wanda could have defeated him. Surely Strange could have defeated him. But maybe your grief and anguish clouded your perception. The perception that this was the only way. When will accept this? Only time will tell.

“When I told people I was finally moving on,” your father spoke, as you watched him with Morgan on your lap. You looked at your father in adoration and desperation, wishing he was really standing there. Wishing it wasn’t an AI. “From the d-dea- the disappearance of my daughter, I lied.”

A tear escaped your eye as your father’s figure stood up and walked towards the three of you. Thor, Peter, Steve, Rhoudey and Happy all stood behind as the video was playing. “I could never move on. She’s my daughter. My first daughter. And Morgan needs her. What we’re doing is damn near impossible so I made this video in case I didn’t make it. Maybe- maybe I’m just overthinking. This will work out perfectly.”

He then looked at both you and Morgan, bending down. You reached out to touch him, but was left with a hollow feeling as you realised it wasn’t real. He was really gone. “I love you all 3000.”

•

Your back was against an old oak tree. You can feel the bark piercing your back, surely leaving red marks. The garden was soundless, an occasional sound escaping from an Alpaca nearby. Leaves rustled against the ground as the sunset down.

You heard footsteps coming towards you, looking up to see Peter’s face. He gave you a small smile, one that was not out of pity. One that told you that he was checking up. To let you know you were not alone. That in the five years that you, May and Ned were gone, he understood what you were going through.

He sat down near you, breathing in the fresh air. You glanced down, looking at the tattoos coming out of his suit. You moved your hand up, carefully placing it on his arm. Peter glances at your hand, unsure at what you were doing.

You traced his tattoos. It seemed every each one had a meaning. One was a Star Wars quote about hope, which you knew was a reference to Ned. You rolled his sleeve up to investigate further.

You saw an image of Mary holding her son, Jesus. You smiled to yourself, knowing that Peter’s motherly figure was of course his mother and May. You then went to look at the tattoos on his neck. Goosebumps arose on Peter’s skin when you delicate fingers skimmed across his neck.

At there it was; a date. The date that was 5 years after you made the promise. The promise that you’d go in a date with him, that you’d finally give Peter a chance. It was almost a month ago that the date was meant to happen, and here Peter had it tattooed on his neck.

Peter looked down at you, his fingers gently pushing your hair back. He then gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you with love and gratitude in his eyes. Gratitude that fate had finally brought you back to him. “Tell me exactly what’s on your mind right now.”

“We never got to bury her,” your voice still hoarse from the funeral service that was hours ago. Peter knew who you were talking about when you had said ‘Her’. “She died alone. Without anyone to hold her. Without anyone to talk to her till she took her final breath. She died in a place she’s never been to and on a cold, hard surface. All she ever wanted to do was wipe the red off her ledger. But- but what she didn’t know is that she didn’t need to. She wiped it a long time ago. She- she didn’t need to do that- I don’t understand why she did that, why my dad did that- I just don’t understand why-“

Peter grabbed you as you fell into a fit of sobs, rubbing your back gently. “When you, May, Ned and My Uncle left me, I felt the same. I felt hurt and betrayed by the universe. But the worst thing I did?”

You moved away from the hug to look at him, waiting for him to continue. “The worst thing I did is leave everyone who was trying to help me. Especially your Father and Nat. They tried to keep in contact with me but- but I felt like I didn’t need anyone. That I’m always going to be on my own. And I don’t want you to feel like that.”

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, sniffing as the cool wind blew your hair back. “Scared of the unknown. The Avengers lost half its members in the Battle. What if we can’t protect it anymore? What if my father’s and Nat’s sacrifice was for nothing?”

Peter sighed, scratching his beard. “No one knows anything about the future. And if the battle showed anything, it just showed that we have allies all around the galaxy. Captain Marvel, Guardians of The Galaxy and all those armies from all around the planets. We might not know what’s in store for the future, but there are Avengers everywhere willing to bet their lives for freedom.”

•

Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest. You were nervous. More then you’ve ever been in your life. You looked at yourself in the mirror, letting out a breath. Your hair was straightened, you wore a dark rose lip gloss and had a golden eyeshadow look.

You wore a white milkmaid dress, one that was off the shoulder. You never felt as beautiful, yet terrified, as you did at this very secound moment. Every minute that passed by was another minute that you over thought.

And then there was a knock on the door. You froze, your breath slightly faltering. It was now or never.

“C’mon, get a grip,” you told yourself as you grabbed your purse. You then walked over to the door of your room before opening it. There, you saw Peter holding a bouquet of red roses, donning an all black suit.

“Wow,” Peter whispered, looking at you amazed. You blushed, looking down at your feet. “You make the five years of waiting totally worth it.”

“Shut up Parker,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at him. Butterflies were occupying your stomach and you knew that they weren’t leaving anytime soon when you made eye contact with the spider boy.

“These are for you,” Peter spoke, giving you the flowers. You smiled, taking it from him before sniffing it. The flowery, magical smell hit you, making you close your eyes.

“They smell amazing,” you told him, before placing them into a vase near your door. “Thank you Peter.”

“No worries Princess,” He spoke, before extending his arm. “How about we head to our 7 o’clock dinner reservation?”

You grabbed his hand, a smile on your face that wouldn’t leave. “Let’s do it Mr Parker.”

•

“I still can’t believe we’re having our first date in London,” Peter spoke, as he ate his spaghetti. It was a gorgeous resturant, one that gave you the view of the London Bridge. “I always thought it was going to be at the Thai place near my house.”

“Well I have business matters to attend here for the week,” you spoke, taking a bite from your ravioli. “I need to do a press conference today about some pressing matters.”

“Like what?” Peter asked curiously. You took a sip from your wine, before placing it down. You then looked outside where the river of Thames was. A dark cloud started to form over the famous river. “Y/N?”

“Oh sorry,” you shook your head, now paying attention to him. “Basically the state of the Avengers. The new members like Carol and Scott. And what to do with the children who are still homeless after the decimation.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it Y/N?” Peter spoke, now putting away his fork and knife to grab your hand. “You can always get Sam or Happy to speak on your behalf-“

“I have to,” you cut him off. You nodded to yourself, biting your lower lip. “I have to. Because if I don’t, I’m not a Stark.”

“If you feel like you have to, I will be standing right beside you,” Peter spoke, caressing your hand. You smiled at him, feeling less anxious about this week’s press conference. “No matter what.”

“Peter?” Your voice slightly wavered. You were now glad you rented out the whole resturant, giving you and Peter both some privacy. It meant you could be more open with him without having the public know every detail.

“Yes Y/N?” Peter asked, his face more serious at the tone of your voice.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” You asked him. Peter smiled so widely, he could feel the muscles of his cheeks hurt. This is it. This is what he wanted. This was the ending he wanted in the five years of pain he endured.

“Yes I will,” he replied back. He leaned forward, capturing your lips in his. It was a short, sweet kiss. One that made sure you remember this moment for the rest of your life.

You pulled back, suppressing the huge smirk that wanted to escape. Your eyes then unintentionally went back outside to the River of Thames, before they widened at the sight.

“Well as our first act of boyfriend and girlfriend, do you want to fight some elemental monster with me?” You asked, as you stared at the giant creature that emerged from the river, lightening coming out of it.

You saw a man flying around the beast, throwing green mist towards it. Peter looked outside the window, lifting up his eyebrows as you both got up from your seats. “Yeah, I mean sure why not.”

You pressed the button on your necklace before a now black suit enveloping your body. It was to commemorate Natasha Romanoff. Peter too pressed the button on his necklace, one that you created for him, before his spider suit came alive.

“Well come on Quasar, hop on,” Peter told you. You put your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he put his hand below your bum. He then ran up to the window, which you blasted down with the Quantum energy.

He then jumped out of the window before you let go, flying towards the source with your now boyfriend beside you.

“This is a great first date!” You spoke from the comms. You heard Peter chuckle at that. “Us fighting monsters together.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Peter replied back. You smiled before charging full speed towards the creature.

Maybe everything was going to turn out just fine.

Fin.

Post Credit Scene

One Week Ago

“You know I tried,” Bruce spoke to you and Steve as Steve begun readying up to put the stones back in their respective timelines. “I tried to bring her back, when I snapped my fingers, I tried to bring her back.”

“We know,” you spoke softly, rubbing his now huge green arms. “We know Bruce. But I think we just have to move on, rebuild the Avengers. It’s what she would have wanted.”

Bruce nodded, a sad look in his face. He loved the women. He wanted to run away with her, start a new life. But it was never meant to be. He knew that now. Their jobs, their duties prevented them from ever trialing their love.

But in a different timeline, in particularly 2014 Vormir, a certain Black Widow laid soundlessly on the ground. Her own blood surrounded her as her eyes were shut; no pulse heard.

‘Bring everyone back,’ Bruce thought, as he brought his thumb and index together, ready to snap. ‘Bring her back.’

And as soon as his thumb and index swiped, there was a thunder. The Black Widow still laid on the floor soundlessly, her chest unmoving, her face pale and her blood getting cold.

One second passed.

Two seconds passed.

Ten secounds passed.

A minute passed.

A deep breath was heard and echoed through the walls of Vormir.

“That’s weird,” you spoke, feeling the absence of an item on your wrist. Bruce looked at you, a confused look in his eyes.

“What’s weird?”

“The charm bracelet that Nat gave me,” you spoke, rubbing your wrist as you grabbed the jewellery item from the the ground.

“It- it just broke. Out of nowhere.”

Taglist will be added tomorrow

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black-wolf066 · 4 years

Text

An Au where Five dies young in the apocalypse.

(((I originally wanted this to be something more happy-ish, despite the Au idea, but my Muse demanded angst; so angst it shall have. Warnings for the general Klaus-ness of... well Klaus (he's my favorite of them all so I’m not hating on him, but we all know the warnings that come tagged with his name by now) as well as mild language and again angst.

This story is posted over on my Ao3 account under the same pen name (blackwolf066) I would link but due to people posting phishing links, I'm weary to do so. The story is called [Not an End of All, Only an End of Something])))

Klaus is not quite twenty-four, just a little over a year before the inevitable publishing of Vanya's book, when Five pops up out of the blue. And at the worst possible moment too as Klaus OD's on the ground of some seedy alleyway.

When he wakes up in the back of an ambulance, he thinks it was all just one big twisted hallucination. But then he looks over the EMT's shoulder and sees a glaring, near murderous Ben, which is not an uncommon sight at all considering where he landed himself (again). No, it's the pale figure standing beside Ben, a very rattled and pale ghost with the face of little number Five and--

"Well, shit."

Is all he can really articulate.

Ben just glares harder.

After coming to grips with it (he will never come to grips with it) and after hearing Five's sad tale; he seeks out the rest of their living siblings.

Really, he shouldn't have even bothered.

Much like how no one believed Klaus about Ben in the beginning, they sure as hell don't believe him about Five, or the bullshit he spits about the apocalypse being real (courtesy of Five telling him and Ben what all had happened after he disappeared). Klaus truly believes his brother's story, the proof of it clear enough on his ghostly corpse. The layer of soot that was too ashy and grey to really be grime. The slight wheeze to Five's words even though the boy was dead and no longer needed air. The hollowness of his cheeks and the clothes that hung too big on his too small, bony frame.

It’s a scary thought, to know that all of humanity rests on Klaus' shoulders; and all because none of his siblings could be bothered to give Klaus the time of day.

"We're all doomed." Five puts eloquently.

Klaus hisses at him, but he knows Five is right. He's the last person anyone should put their faith in and yet Five didn't have much of a choice.

Klaus didn't need the reminder.

Nor did he sign up for this shit.

(None of them did, not Ben and surely not poor little number Five, who Klaus still has a hard time keeping long bouts of eye contact with; the image of his too small brother and the clear suffering he had gone through, far worse than when Ben had appeared all bloody and shadowed in the corner of his room at Seventeen).

Meanwhile the Commission are left scratching their heads and wondering what in the hell happened. What killed Five in the first place? Was it the starvation that did him in; or the ashy air that caused his lungs to stop filling altogether? Or was it the expired Twinkie that was the straw that broke the camel’s back?

(They don't dwell on it for long. What will be will be and all that jazz)

With two nagging brothers instead of one, Klaus has a harder time chasing and keeping his continued highs. Though he doesn't want this responsibility, would rather sit back and watch the world burn during his lower moments of weakness; Klaus finds, much like Five, that he doesn't have much of a choice either.

(The disappointment on anyone's face had always been a natural state in regards to Klaus. He was the family fuck up after all, the useless number out of the lot of them; and that included Vanya. He was used to it by now, but to see that disappointment on his kid brother, hurt more than he'd ever like to admit aloud).

So he gets clean, or clean enough, no longer allowed to go for the harder stuff (the topic of Sobriety is a fight Ben and Five realize they will never win). Klaus needs something if he's to do this with his sanity still intact, the ghosts are just too damn loud, too unpredictable and too uncontrollable (not like he could ever control them in the first place) to really go full on cold turkey.

At least it's a start in the right direction, so Ben and Five will take whatever they can get at this point.

With no leads other than a glass eyeball no longer in Five's possession, there isn't much Klaus can really do but wait for nightfall and break into the Meritech facility; a company he had never even heard of (until that day) that apparently the eyeball originated from ("Obviously it came from there, Klaus, pay attention!"). With Ben and Five acting as his lookout and scout respectively (to warn of any security wandering the building as well as to point out all the cameras to duck around and avoid), it doesn't take Klaus long to find the file room, but none of the files on hand have the serial number Five rattles off and they're back to square one.

Between the span of the next six years, the harbinger of death will lose an eye and none of them know when exactly that will happen or who said harbinger will be.

And life continues on.

Klaus manages to get a job despite his record, and even a small apartment to live in. It's a shitty little studio in an even shittier part of town. It's all he can really afford, but it's the home he made for himself and his brothers and he couldn't ask for much more.

Vanya publishes her book, and though Klaus silently cheers on her ballsyness (even--deep down--understands why she did in it the first place) he would have liked it better had she not callously attacked him like she did everyone else. He debates on using the damn thing for kindling in the fireplace, but somehow can't bring himself to do it; not when it's the only picture he has of his sister despite the betrayal he feels burning in his chest.

It sits collecting dust on the bookshelf instead.

Then one day Vanya randomly appears in their ghostly midst and Klaus is honest to god ready to throw hands.

"You know this is not what I ever had in mind about getting the four-corner squad back together again." Klaus mumbles.

"There never was a 'four-corner' squad," Five grunts, "You always just invited yourself along anyway."

Fair, Klaus thinks, and smirks faintly at the twin smacks that resound in the apartment from Ben and Vanya hitting Five's arms. The little gremlin’s hissing as he threatens and dares them to do something like that ever again, do nothing to lighten the fact that Vanya is still very much dead and standing in the middle of his apartment.

"It would explain why I never found Ben or Vanya among the rest of your bodies." Five states sometime after Vanya is filled in on the whole stopping the world from ending shin ding.

Klaus doesn't ever meet her eyes the entire time they talk; skirting around the guilt laden looks she keeps shooting in his direction upon learning he was speaking the truth this whole damn time.

(Meanwhile the commission is scrambling to right this wrong, and they almost go back to save their bomb from getting hit by that car, until they realize the apocalypse is still happening)

Which is fitting, really, that where Vanya ends the world the first time, it's Klaus that ends it the second time (the commission just don't know it quite yet).

And god doesn't that just suck to know he was the cause of his brother's suffering, even if the whole damn thing was nothing more than an accident.

Reginald still kicked the bucket (ding dong the abusive bastard’s dead). Harold still somehow managed to get his hands on the damn journal and was still hellbent on getting his vengeance against the umbrella academy; even without Vanya by his side.

With his living siblings distracted in their fight against Harold and the commission (still believing that Harold is the fuse somehow in all this chaos), Klaus is still kidnapped, tortured and forced to go cold turkey (but this time it's because he knows too much, Hazel and Cha Cha being sent out to find out how Klaus even knew about the apocalypse in the first place). He still gets saved in the end, still ends up back in time alone, fighting in a war because he was too scared to use the briefcase again and end up somewhere far worse. He still gains and then loses the love of his life (his Dave, his everything). Still dies, talks to dear old daddy and comes back--to the land of the living where his dead siblings all hover worriedly around him.

And all of this spirals with Klaus being absolutely and utterly done with everyone's shit: with the added scary bonus of secondary powers he didn't realize he even had (nor can control) due to said cold turkey experience.

In the end Harold really was the fuse, and the world is ended because his ghostly siblings couldn't penetrate the fog of Klaus' panic attack to calm him down (a panic attack induced by a mix of PTSD, the complete lack of faith his living siblings still have in him, and the resulting battle that ensues as Harold strikes the mansion).

His already uncontrollable telekinesis goes ballistic when the mansion explodes from C-4 Harold had planted around the block. He doesn't see the fighting that results from it, he doesn't see Luther rip Harold's eye out either (an eye he gained from pissing off the wrong people at the wrong time in his incarceration). All he hears is the fighting, the loud explosions, and the crumbling of the building around him. All he can smell is the smoke. All he can feel is the heat of the flames as they begin to lick teasingly at his skin and before he knows it, he finds himself back in that god forsaken jungle.

And so, ends all of ‘something’.

it's not a moon chunk to end everything in a fiery blaze of death, but an earthquake as Klaus' power unintentionally shifts the tectonic plates enough to set off every volcano in the world (dormant or otherwise).

Oh well.

C'est la vie

What will be, will be.

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theoriginalmysteryincorporated · 4 years

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What’s the #1 thing you want readers to understand about each of your characters

this is tough, but the main thing is all the good guys are queer in some way shape or form lmao

but in all seriousness, charlie is someone i came up with bc i was doing an analysis of my favorite character “archetypes”, and i just...love characters that are like, trying to make an authority figure rly proud even if that figure doesn’t really “deserve” the pedestal they’re being put on by the character, and i wanted to kinda combine that with another archetype i like, which is characters who are trying their best and have the noblest intentions, so charlie is someone who like, despite a lot of adversity, is just a good person who has a lot of cards stacked against her, but she never stops trying to improve herself

the doctor (gabriella/bree) is someone i made cuz i have like, a huge problem coming up with villains, like it’s just something i Struggle With, cuz i find it difficult to justify the type of villainy seen in the Big Bad (like ozai, or horde prime, or take your pick, tho d*nald tr*mp existing has helped me come to terms with the fact that sometimes ppl really are That Bad). so i essentially made a list of like, character traits that are associated with like, “good” and “bad”, and tried to figure out at what point a good trait would be bad and vice versa. i just wanted her to feel very human, like she’s very intelligent, but she makes these big mistakes cuz life is messy and she’s under A Lot of stress and has to make so many tough decisions, and it does end up hurting people, albeit unintentionally

redd (the zombie) is who i still need to figure out, but i kinda wanna take some inspiration from michael from the good place with her, in the sense that she’s essentially a hollow shell of a person who has no other thoughts than carrying out the will of bree, but then bree disappears, and she’s kind of paralyzed by this. it’s the first time charlie really gets to know redd, too, cuz before this, charlie was kind of scared by her, cuz when redd showed up, her position with the doctor took a huge hit, which was honestly disappointing for her as a young kid who really wants to impress bree. and instead of charlie taking this as an opportunity to hurt redd or screw with her, she offers to help her, and it’s the first time redd really gets treated like a person, and then from there, as she starts to learn to care about charlie, she starts to also learn what it kind of means to be human and experience love, etc etc (SCRAP the robot also goes through something similar)

i’ll just do those 3 cuz they’re my faves

#redd hatchet #charlie hazard #bree hatchet #my writing #sorta #anon #asks

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monikafilefan · 5 years

Text

A season of marigold and crimson part2

I would post the link to part 1 here, but since I still don’t know how to do that, let’s just hope you can find easily on my blog. But just in case, here’s the ao3 link to part 1.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s pov after she and Mulder argued about her health in the middle of the wilderness.

——

One dead whitetail, an abandoned hunters barn, and any lingering resolution with Mulder was whisked away with the wind. He had told her to go get warm as he took one last look around the barren land and Scully had not hesitated. She dragged herself back to their car—effectively hiding her indignant tears from the one person who wished she wouldn’t—and melted into the passenger seat.

Her exhaustion was evident in the dark circles lining her lower lashes and the ominous hollowing of her cheeks. Emotionally she was just as tired, but even more angry. So very angry that her life was once again tethered by only a fraying rope as she floated off in the distance, and the one person who would sacrifice anything to keep her on solid ground was the one she’d just unintentionally hurt.

This wasn’t fair to him—to them, her frustration in knowing that what she felt for him was so much more than just friendship and respect. This dangerous two-step of wanting more from their partnership and needing to keep their status quo was maddening. Because what would it matter in the end when the time came to say goodbye? He would have to learn to dance without her.

But he didn’t have to do that; not yet. She was still there, still standing by his side, holding him up with her presence as he supported her with a crooked smile and a reassuring palm to her back. Her back, where she had permanently inked his existence under her skin as well as within her heart.

The truth she spoke of under the bone-colored moon was not just that she was dying and Mulder refused to see, but that her soul was swelling with hatred for what a group of men had done to them both in order to protect it.

Staring out into the blackness of a rising winter, she sobbed silently until she saw the catlike silhouette of the man she tried to deny she loved approach the driver side.

If the gust of cold air hadn’t stolen her breath, the sight of Mulder’s red rimmed eyes and dejected expression would have. Her chin quivered and throat clogged with regret.

He tore off his leather gloves and splayed his fingers over the heater. “Warm?”

“Yeah…” Scully knew he consciously chose not to ask if she was okay. And even though she would’ve certainly said she was fine when she was nothing of the sort, she found it hurt deeply that he hadn’t.

A pregnant silence yawned alongside the hum of the heater and Mulder made no attempt to leave. She would make sure his patience with her was well worth the wait.

“I want you to understand something,” she murmured, staring at her fidgeting fingers. “Why I didn’t want to talk about it...”

He shook his head. Those long, dark lashes concealing pain she knew was whirling like a sandstorm in his eyes. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say those things to me?”

“Mulder…”

“No, I don’t blame you. It’s me I blame. And whether you’ve chosen to be my ally and friend freely or not, I can’t help but feel like I’ve placed you in this position—marked you as the perfect target because of my own selfish need.”

The darkness and injustice of it all she’d been at war with since that moment in the hospital when Betsy perished in front of her churned harshly in her gut.

She sighed, feeling her chest constrict with the weight of it all. He didn’t get it, and he never would if she did not willingly cut herself open and expose what lay inside her heart for him to truly see.

A Y-incision of Dana Scully.

“Mulder, you heard what I said but you didn’t listen.” She ran a finger across his now clenched fist and he loosened it, lacing his slender fingers within hers. The tactile comfort they’d so rarely yet so naturally indulged in was something she’d been cherishing more often lately. She learned to hoard these precious moments that meant the most.

“I’ve denied how sick I’ve been for months. Yes, it’s true I have seemingly incurable cancer that stemmed from my abduction over two years ago. And it’s taken me a long time to admit that to myself, even though the evidence was as glaringly as the sun. But Mulder, this didn’t happen to me because of you. I’ve never thought that. Not once.”

“How can—”

“Shh.” She cupped his jaw, stubbled with sparse, chestnut hair and forced the eye contact they both needed.

She felt it then: that familiar electricity singing through her skin where they were entangled in a forever knot, a circle. An ouroboros of their interwoven life.

“I’ve seen death. I’ve analyzed it and cut through pieces of people’s past to uncover the mystery of it. I’ve hovered that line before. I don’t want to die, but it doesn’t scare me,” she told him as she tenderly thumbed his cheek, feeling him stifle a sob. It scared him. Everyday, she knew he was terrified.

“But you know what does scare me, Mulder? What jolts me awake in the middle of the night, what makes my stomach turn and heart ache? His hand gripped hers like an anchor in a raging sea, and her liquid eyes never strayed from his. “Leaving you behind.”

“God, Scully… please don’t say that,” he pled, reaching out to stroke her wind blown hair. It was something tangible to reinforce her presence for him. ��You’re here. You’re not going anywhere...”

It was a questioning plea—to her or anyone who would listen, and she could promise him with certainty that he was right. “No, Mulder I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you and this is where I choose to be. I always have.”

Scully allowed him into her inner sanctum of hidden emotions. Embraced his full presence in her heart. And for the first time in a long time, she felt complete. She opened herself up fully for just a moment… and it was freeing.

She may still be heartbroken watching him suffer helplessly at the prospect of losing her. She may be foolishly and wholly in love with him. She may still be creeping closer to the inevitable end of her life. But at least she would not be alone while living it. And neither would he.

“Always, Scully,” he agreed and softly kissed the back of her hand, his hot tears burning down her chilled fingers. “But I’ll find you a cure. I’ll always fight for you because I can’t… I just have to. I’ll do anything it takes. Even if I have to dance with the devil... all the way to Hell.”

——

#part 2 #angst #romance #cancer arc

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

Text

I consider taking angsty prompts and turning them into absurd fluff to be a specialty of mine~

Wretched

Aziraphale had always had a soft spot for children’s books. One wouldn’t think it based on the antiques and religious texts crowding up the shop, but if you took your time and wandered all the way to the back you’d find a sizable collection waiting, enhanced by the occasional plush and toy truck. They were mostly books from the mid-18th and 19th century, didactic texts with (surprise, surprise) religious bents. A Little Pretty Pocket-Book Intended for the Instruction and Amusement of Little Master Tommy and Pretty Miss Polly had been a long time favorite of his, both for the brightly colored paper it was bound in and the absurdly long title by contemporary standards.

The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes. The New England Primer. Millions of Cats. Peter Rabbit, The Secret Garden, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland...that was about as modern as Aziraphale was willing to go—for now at least—with the exception of one co-authored series from the 1990’s.

“The Bailey School Kids,” Crowley read. He flipped through one at random, eyes already skittering away from lack of interest. The cover got an amused snort though. “Dracula Doesn’t Drink Lemonade? Wouldn’t mind showing that to old Bram sometime.”

“You’re welcome to take that copy if you ever pop back downstairs.”

“Isn’t he with your lot?”

“Can’t quite recall anymore.” Aziraphale’s fingers skimmed the spines until he found the book he was looking for. With a dramatic flourish he showed off this cover too: a glowing woman performing a kick in front of four children.

Crowley’s lips twitched. “Angels Don’t Know Karate.”

“I’ll admit this one certainly doesn’t.”

“‘She’s too good to be true!’ Well they got that part right at least.”

Crowley’s admiration was rarely verbal. He preferred actions over words and when something did come tumbling out it was quickly followed by an insult for balance. You’re so clever. How can someone as clever as you be so stupid, and so forth. Thus, Aziraphale waited for the blow and instead felt his cheeks heating when all Crowley did was glance up over his glasses, eyes soft. He’d bent to get a look at the book and having him in such a, ahem, submissive position did nothing to calm Aziraphale’s racing heart.

What absurdities human bodies were. His palms had begun to sweat so badly that Aziraphale feared he’d do damage to the pages.

Yet when he dropped one hand to brush against his trousers he found it caught halfway, Crowley’s fingers ensnaring his, right at the tips. He drew Aziraphale’s knuckles to his mouth and placed a kiss there, reverent.

“Too good by far,” he murmured.

“Oh,” and Aziraphale was floundering, choking a bit, trying to put the book down and pull Crowley forward all at once until they were simply a mess of limbs and laughter. They finally succeeded and as Aziraphale bent to press his own kiss into the hollow of Crowley’s throat he forgot the reason he’d brought him over here in the first place.

I was making a joke, he thought faintly. Then Crowley took his face between his hands and Aziraphale forgot that too.

***

It came to him thirty hours later when a stray cat nearly upended itself into a drain in its attempt to get away from Crowley.

That was it. The Bailey series was missing a title: Demons Don’t Keep Pets.

“Wretched beast,” Crowley muttered and Aziraphale kindly ignored that the words were spoken in the same tone as, ‘I’m not nice’ and ‘That’s ridiculous,’ and ‘Shut up, angel.’

“We merely startled the poor thing,” Aziraphale said. He kept his eyes straight ahead.

“Shut up, angel.”

Hmm.

Spending time in the company of demons resulted in all sorts of odd, but really quite predictable outcomes. The stench of sulfur and chlorine was a given. Aziraphale had long ago ceased trying to cover up Crowley’s scent with any human-made creations and after the first couple of hundred years he’d forgotten why he’d wanted to in the first place. Minor mischief was another. Not anything planned, demons simply had a sort of... bad luck that surrounded them. Minor falls, forgotten words, and lost socks followed them everywhere. There was the expected gravitation towards warmer climates—many were cold blooded by nature—and the inevitable itch to groom one’s wings once the encountered concluded. Though that was due more to self-comparative embarrassment than anything the demons actually did.

And then there were the animals. Needless to say, creatures of Earth didn’t take kindly to demonic entities from the literal depths of hell.

Over their multi-millennium friendship (Courtship, Aziraphale silently corrected himself, experiencing a little thrill) he had seen Crowley interact with every animal imaginable. Or rather, unintentionally terrorize every animal imaginable. Cats, as established, had enough sense to get out of his way. Dogs were a little dumber, but that just resulted in shaking, whimpering, and a pungent mess on the floor. The Bentley was beloved not only for it style, but the freedom it had afforded him. Over the years Aziraphale had watched Crowley get bucked off of horses, camels, donkeys, mules, and on one memorable occasion an elephant. Though there were upsides too, of course. This particular body was quite susceptible to bug bites, though Aziraphale never needed to worry about such things when on a dusk stroll with Crowley. In decades past a visit from him had been more than enough to scare off the rats and cockroaches plaguing Aziraphale’s home. Squirrels and other rodents never bothered them while eating outside. Birds wouldn’t dare to defecate anywhere in their presence (smarter than the dogs then). It had taken a hundred years for the ducks of St. Jame’s Park to become accustomed to their routine... and even today they very obviously only ate the bread on Aziraphale’s side of the pond.

In short, there was a reason that poor unicorn had bolted the moment Crowley come on the scene.

“You’re thinking about how I’m responsible for the extinction of the unicorns, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale faltered only briefly. Uneven pavement. Such a danger. “Not at all, my dear.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Zira.”

“I am quite accomplished in the art due entirely to your influence. Now hush and enjoy the sunset.”

Crowley grumbled, but slipped his hand into Aziraphale’s when they just so happened to brush. They did enjoy the sunset while strolling back from dinner and as they did not a single mosquito, bird, or daring cat came their way.

***

Crowley would have dearly loved to have a pet.

He’d never said as much, not even at their most inebriated, but the desire was clear as day to Aziraphale. Put aside how well they knew one another; Aziraphale was, quite literally, a being meant to understand and exhibit love, someone who could feel it in all its forms. He knew that Crowley loved animals with the same surety that he knew Crowley loved children. And him. The duck obsession, the drunken worry for all the ocean’s creatures, they were just neon signs pointing to an already obvious statement.

Aziraphale had briefly thought that Dog was the answer. Who better to love a demon than a hell hound? Sadly, a visit to the Young household established that Adam had been a bit too thorough in transforming Dog into a normal dog. The puddle on the family room rug had created quite the stir.

So, with Armageddon two weeks behind them and all the freedom to do as he pleased, Aziraphale went shopping.

“Angel, when you said you’d gotten me a present...” Crowley’s mouth worked for a moment, seeming to taste a whole lot of words before rejecting all of them. “Weeellll. Kinda thought it was another stuffy old book.”

“You love when I give you stuffy old books.” Aziraphale had seen the small collection in Crowley’s apartment, as loved as anything else in that minimalist space.

“Is this a stuffy old book then?”

Crowley pointed to the box. The box moved.

“No, dear.”

In truth Crowley already knew what was inside. He could no doubt smell it, but he went through the motions of surprise all the same. Aziraphale watched how hard he swallowed and the shake in his hands as he pulled back the flaps.

“...You got me a snake,” he said and Aziraphale smiled at how wet his voice had gotten.

Specifically, Aziraphale had gotten him an Eastern Hognose Snake, black with a reddish tint to match Crowley’s hair. Docile and small, the little dear had no sooner tasted the air then it was making a beeline for Crowley, around his wrist and up onto his shoulder.

He’d been right. The curse didn’t extend to one’s own species.

“I’m surprised you never got one for yourself,” Aziraphale said. He watched as Crowley ran two fingers delicately over the scales, entranced. A soft, subconscious hiss was emanating each time he breathed. “It’s rather the perfect pick for you.”

“Way to toot your own horn. But nah, just... snakes. Not very cute, are they? Not the sort of thing people want in their home.” Crowley used his free hand to sit his sunglasses more firmly onto his face and... oh.

Oh.

Aziraphale felt something in his chest tighten. He stepped forward and removed those glasses, despite the protest.

“I think they’re positively adorable,” and a laugh bubbled out of Aziraphale as Crowley spluttered. The tension in his shoulders released though and the little Hognose ended up better settled between them. “A snake will make a wonderful addition to this home, rest assured. You’ll have to give him a name.”

“Her,” Crowley croaked.

“Her then.”

“Got any suggestions?”

“Not just yet.” Stepping closer Aziraphale laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder, eye-to-eye with their little lady. He wasn’t at all scared though. Like with the snake above him, Aziraphale knew he was perfectly safe. “I hear these lovelies play dead when feeling threatened, so the name must be something suitably dramatic. You see? You’re perfect for one another.”

“Shut it, angel.”

“And yes, there’s a collection of stuffy old books in the second box. You must read up on how to properly care for her. You don’t really think I’d pass up the opportunity to—”

“Somebody give me strength do you ever shut up?”

Crowley finally decided that the best way to achieve silence was to get it himself, which was precisely why Aziraphale blathered on in the first place. Kissing one snake while another watched wasn’t precisely what one would consider angel-like behavior.

Although, given that Aziraphale was an angel and here they were, perhaps it wasn’t so far off the mark after all.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #which one of you lovely readers wants to name the snake #because I am bad at that kind of stuff :D

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selling-cj · 5 years

Text

Wait and See

A cool wind ruffled red and purple leaves and stole them from branches. The sun, for once, was merely soft and warm. People sat out, basking in it, taking a break from the heat. All was calm.

Beyond this calm, in a far-off corner of a small neighborhood, an inconspicuous house stands. A house that no one dared visit. A house where a family of powerful wizards is said to live. Such power that it could steal a normal person’s soul from their body.

On that spring day, in the crafting room of that house on the far edge of the neighborhood, a witch colored a rather spectacular picture. Knotted white curls, and black eyes. Pale blue skin, and lips of a frostbitten purple color. Lada May, the first child of a most terrifying witch, Cata-Lee May.

Her picture was that of a typical child’s. A grassy field under a bright, slightly cloudy sky—colored purple for no particular reason—a full, blue sun in one corner, and a figure of her, standing happily next to a hundred-foot wolf dog. She added a pair of sunglasses to the sun, giggling as she did so.

She laughed at the idea of a sun needing to wear glasses. She hid the crayons in the skirt of her sun dress, staining it a rainbow of colors. A fair and innocent moment for a child of such myth and lineage. Of course, she had no idea what she was capable of. Her father made sure of that. He was so certain.

Terror of the Universe, Destroyer of Men, Witch of Enzepan leaned against a door frame just outside the crafting room. His hood drawn to cover his lost eye; arms crossed. A dour look on his face. Thoughts lingered on the future rather than his daughter. Rather, actually, because of her.

She was only twelve, but every day she neared thirteen his mind grew heavier and heavier. He had been so careful to keep her away from his past and their powers. He had yet planned for the eventual. The eventual surge of power so intense that it could wipe her mind blank, and control her every movement. The eventual want to rend apart the very environment around her and rebuild it in her image. The moment her body would become paralyzed under the overwhelming fluctuations.

There was no way to explain it now, not through all the lies. Even if he did, he couldn’t tell her how to deal with all of it. How could he? Nobody told him. He dealt with it himself when it happened. Quite poorly.

Turns out he wouldn’t get the chance to decide one way or the other.

On a dark, moonlit night, only a week before her thirteenth birthday, Lada snuck out. She had heard of a library in the middle of the town when talking to her father earlier that day. The library in her own house was a bit lacking. Not to mention she had read all of the books she wanted to.

With her father’s fame it took her very little time to dig up what she wasn’t supposed to. Thousands of stories about Cata-Lee May and his rampage across the galaxy. Reports of feats that were almost god-like. Even the dead race that he had unintentionally brought back into the light.

She was confused, devastated, angry. He had known about all of this. Every single thing, and he never told her. He had lied to her all this time. Did he plan everything out? Did he intend to keep this from her all her life?

Something deep in the bottom of her stomach bubbled to the surface and pulsed to her fingertips. It filled her body. An electric, hollow feeling. Her muscles twitched and contracted. Her mind raced a thousand thoughts a second. And when she breathed, she felt power even in her lungs.

It felt right. Beautiful. Oh, it felt like heaven. And for a moment she reveled in it. Every book floated around her. She could feel each one as if she were holding them up with her own hands. She forced them back down slowly, carefully. Such focus and control. She almost forgot to be angry. Only for a moment.

Everything that she had just learned burned back into her mind. The power in her body turned to fire. He lied to her. Betrayed her. He should feel awful. If he didn’t, she would make him. Unleash the wrath of a million gods upon him.

She made her way back home and waited, as she always had all these years. Father came home late into the night, greeted by the bright lights in the family room. An unexpected sight, truly. Even more surprising was Lada pacing restlessly in front of the door.

Before he could get a word in, she turned to him, rage burning behind her eyes. “You’ve lied to me.”

“Lada,” Cata said carefully, closing the door behind him, “what is this about?”

“You know what this is about,” she seethed.

Fear struck in his chest as things began to lift off the ground. It had begun and he still didn’t know what to do about it.

“You lied to me all this time. Did you ever think what would happen when I found out?”

“Lada, please—”

“You didn’t, did you?” A pressure pushed in the air around the room. Pushed on Cata’s shoulders, making them ache.

A shiver crawled up his spine. “Sweetheart,” he tried sweetly.

“Don’t!” she swung her arms and Cata stumbled back against the door. Furniture lifted off the floor as the pressure in the room built.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. You don’t get to explain this one away.” Lightbulbs broke. Wood splintered. A hot, electric pulse melted into the room. Cata was pushed to his knees by relentless invisible hands.

“How do you plan to explain away years of isolation and forced ignorance? Locking me away, hoping I would never find out. Hoping I would never want to leave. Were you ever planning to tell me?”

He went to speak but found he couldn’t. Breathing became difficult, labored, until he found he couldn’t anymore. He gripped his throat, pleading it to open.

Everything but him was flying off the ground. Lada’s eyes were blown completely black, hair standing on end.

“Stop just sitting there,” she screamed. Her voice echoed in his skull, multiplied and metallic. “Do something. Fight back, oh, Destroyer of Worlds.”

No, he thought, not like this. Not when it’s you. Tears stung his eyes. Being confronted with his wrongs felt so much worse than he imagined. The anger on her face seared him to the core and he wanted nothing more than to take it all back. Hold her close and apologize. Turn back the clock and do it over again. Tell her everything.

Because he was scared. He loved her, yes, but faced with this—her anger, her resentment, faced with death—it fueled him more than anything. He would do anything, say anything, promise her the world, if it meant she would stop. But he didn’t need to.

Her eyes glistened with tears as everything broke around her. “Do something.” Her body shook. Furniture dropped to the ground. “Fight back,” her voice wavered, almost catching in her throat. She touched back down to earth. Everything around her made a gentle return to the ground. “I hate you,” she choked.

The pressure on her father lifted. He choked and gasped for air. He watched as Lada broke down in front of him.

She cried and wailed. Cursed his name. Accused him of all the heinous things she didn’t know he did. And he let her. He knew what he had done, and he barely regretted it. As far as he knew they were built for destruction. They were monsters, villains. He just wanted to keep her away from all of that. Preserve an idea of her.

Only then did he realize, as he watched her unravel, that he just pushed her closer to that. She may be crying now, but who’s to say she’ll be so broken up when she come to? She may just kill him outright without hesitation. He had done that enough times to understand the temptation.

Lada wailed and screamed until she couldn’t think anymore. He watched as her body went limp and she fell to the floor. Her breath shallow, her heart beat slow and uneven. Her body couldn’t handle everything all at once. She had certainly handled it better than he had the first time. She would be paralyzed for a while.

He gathered her in his arms and held her tight. Perhaps, when she woke up, he would apologize, beg forgiveness, explain everything. Maybe she would snap his neck and move on with her life. That’s what he would have done. But she wasn’t him. She was gentler, less destructive, more focused. But still. There was no way of knowing. So he waited.

#writeblr #writblr #short story #fantasy #kinda #i was thinking more sci fi elements #word vomit #@the-kids-are-not-okayy #helped me with the prompts for this one #my writing #havent written in so long #feels weird

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 6 years

Photo

“Do you know who I am...?”

words not working but, Glimmer is deliberately soft with Adora in a way she really just isn’t with anyone else, and probably wasn’t much in general before and

i think that’s an important part of everything??

including how things when down when Shadow Weaver tried to wipe Adora’s memories, and what happened right afterwards

what Adora gets from Glimmer is support, comfort, hope, security

what Glimmer gets from Adora is- The feeling of finally being on even footing with someone for once. Finding a patient/careful side to herself she maybe never knew she had, a part of herself she can trust completely and be proud of. And the- idk, relief???- of seeing someone dealing with a lot of the same pressures and fears as her, but being able to give help this time instead of just needing it

they’re on even footing because they both know the other isn’t perfect and can be wrong, can make really big mistakes (eps 1&2) no matter how well they meant.

and they’re both rash af compared to Bow. Adora never tells Glimmer to slow down or says hey maybe this isn’t sucha good idea, bc often Adora herself is the one who came up with said Probably Bad Idea in the first place (re: trying to heal someone with an unreliable magic sword that could just vaporize them instead). Glimmer can relax with her, she’s not left feeling like a scewup like she is when Bow, or worse, her mom worries about her

those worries feel like doubt, a vote of no confidence chipping away at Glimmer’s already dangerously low self confidence

none of that is a thing with Adora

with Bow formerly as her only friend, im pretty sure being free of that is something Glimmer’s NEVER had before, someone she’s equal to

part of that is also how much Adora’s stresses and fears mirrors Glimmer’s. A She-Ra who has no idea how to She-Ra and the (in Glimmer’s opinion, which, as Bow has pointed out, is WRONG) weak and disappointing daughter of the immortal queen of the rebellion. The fate of the rebellion rests a lot on their shoulders. They’re both terrified of making mistakes. Neither of them feel good enough but have to try

they’re both also people who have family they never knew / a dad who died, and were left with a parental figure that was either unintentionally undermining their sense of self worth, or was, y’know, literally brainwashing and manipulating them

which means when Adora gets scared or unsure or freaks out, Glimmer can get why, knows what that’s like, and tries to be as steady and reassuring for her as she can

she’s makes an effort to be with Adora like Bow is with her, except Bow (if word of god is true about the Two Dads) doesn’t share the same kinds of parents c*rap Adora and Glimmer have, and isn’t She-Ra or Angellas daughter

whether or not he’s compassionate enough to imagine what they’re going through, just that fact is probably enough to make Glimmer feel like Bow’s sympathy is, not hollow but, there’s this tinge of ‘you have no idea what this is really like’ that isn’t there with Adora. Adora knows. Adora’s dealing with it too. And Glimmer can help

she can HELP! Between her mom constantly scolding her for being reckless, Bow trying to make sure she doesn’t get herself killed, and her aunt going overboard on the affection to the point where it’s embarrassing and makes Glimmer feel like she’d being treated like a little kid- She’s never been in the the position of being the one who can worry, explain things, give some very needed comfort. She’s never felt she had something to offer other than what she can do in fighting the Horde

but she helps Adora by being soft. By just being Glimmer, not a princess or a commander, and the Glimmer who is neither a princess or a commander isn’t someone Glimmer’s thought of before, I’m thinking

So who is Glimmer when she’s not fighting the Horde or trying to prove herself to her mom?

these days she’s the girl who Adora trusts completely. She’s the girl who can make Adora relax and calm down with a touch and a few words

“Glimmer-?”

“Right here, Adora.”

She’s the one Shadow Weaver impersonated in Mystacor to break Adora and her name was the one Adora called out after waking up from a nightmare. And again, just a touch, just a few words, and all Adora very real and fresh fear was washed away again

She, Glimmer with nothing else attached to her in those moments, is someone who can get things right for once

When she’s with Adora, when she sees Adora enjoying herself despite everything she has and is living through- Glimmer can look at Adora’s smile and feel good. Confident and certain that she is at least not making a mistake here. Because to Glimmer there is no question that Adora deserves to be happy, and there is no question that Glimmer is helping her slowly figure out how to be

maybe that’s why one of reasons why she said what she did after Shadow Weaver nearly wiped all that from Adora’s memory

not “Do you remember Sh-Ra”

even though that’s what SW specifically threatened to erase, even though She-Ra is the rallying point they’re all counting on to turn the tide against the Horde

not “Can you remember the Rebellion” or “Do you know who you are” even though narrativily those could both have led to some very satisfyingly impactful answers-

(imagine Adora answering with ‘I’m Adora, of the Rebellion’ or ‘She-Ra’, finally cementing her new life right after SH tried to strip it away) (imagine Adora answering back ‘Force Captain Adora’ and Glimmer’s look of horror before Adora slowly amends ‘wait.. no...’ as she remembers)

Glimmer could have even said “Do you remember me?” and that would have make perfect sense for the moment!

but she doesn’t say any of that

Glimmer unties Adora and, in a small and fragile voice, she asks

“Do you know who I am..?”

because there is a part of Glimmer that Adora brings out. There are sides to her that she feels only Adora really shares

there is a version of her that she’s discovered since becoming friends with Adora, a version of her herself that she feels proud of and confident in, someone who is not a failure

and she was scared

Adora did know who Glimmer was. she knew her in ways no one else did

but what if she didn’t anymore?

and what if her losing everything Glimmer had tried to help her find, safety, freedom, fun- What if the reason Adora lost it all and was stuck back in the dark because she gave herself up for Glimmer

because Glimmer screwed up. Got distracted. Rushed in. Got captured. The one thing she thought she could do right, help Adora, protect her, save her, she ended up ruining anyway. Mystacor all over again except the Glimmer who’d been key to Shadow Weaver getting her hands on Adora hadn’t been a fake this time

Adora had been hurt. Because of her

and watching while it happened maybe Glimmer wondered if the person she thought she could be for Adora... was never actually real

But. She. IS

she DID save Adora. She couldn’t break free when her magic was fresh and SW was taunting her about her mom getting ready to surrender, the end of the Rebellion just hours away- Glimmer tried to break free then and she COULDN’T

but when Adrora came for her later, found her tired out from struggling, maybe unconscious seeing how her doesn’t answer Adora’s first panicked yells. When she was worn down and had tried and tried to break free without anything but pain to show for it. When she should have been even weaker than she had been before-

it didn’t matter

being there for Adora is part of Glimmer now. A very IMPORTANT and STRONG part of her. So when Adora needed her most...

she was there

She got there in time

and that’s what Adora’s answer really meant to her

“Adora! Are you okay?”

“...Do you know who I am?”

“....Glimmer.”

it wasn’t just yes i remember you. Adora saying her name and smiling as she did was proof that everything that had come before had been Real, Glimmer hadn’t been fooling herself

THIS is who she really is

She is Glimmer

And she’ll always, always be there when Adora needs her

#spop #she-ra #glimmer #adora #glimadora #glimmadora #meta #ffff #f

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wilhelmjfink · 6 years

Text

The Great Divide - Chapter 3

Summary: Daryl had told Riley a hundred times: people are not to be trusted and one day she’d run into the wrong person and learn pretty quickly that her confidence in strangers would get her into a lot of trouble. They both knew he was right. He was just trying to teach her before it was too late for her to learn.

Warnings: i’m not going to warn yall anymore there will be swearing in every single chapter and if you don’t like it what the fuck are you even doing here??

A/N: this one’s a little sad :-[

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

“Jesus Christ, I’m so glad you’re okay...” Riley’s words broke as she choked back a sob, leaning forward onto the bed that Daryl rested on, trying to avoid touching him at all for fear of hurting him further. “I don’t even know what I...”

“Hey,” he interrupted her despite his own voice still weak from a combination of yelling in pain followed by a long period of underuse as he just lay unconscious for the night. Riley had sat outside the door all fucking night while Hershel worked away at him, stitching and cleaning him up, tending to the many wounds he’d accumulated on his trip in search of Sophia, and even after. All night she’d waited for the archer to wake up because was so fucking worried. “Stop it. Don’ need to think about that, alright?”

She nodded and sniffled, avoiding his gaze with flushed cheeks. She’d realized something in the long hours of the night while she waited for his eyes to open bak up: if she was harboring any doubt about how she’d felt about him before, she was sure it’d been made very clear to everybody, including herself. She wasn’t sure if Hershel had told Daryl about her lunging at Andrea, fists, tears and curses flying sporadically until somebody managed to pull her off of her.

She didn’t even know why. She had no clue what exactly had come over her at that moment, but there was no more denying her feelings anymore.

And he would doubt it until the day he died, though; hell, she could look him in the eyes and say it flat out, point blank, and he still wouldn’t believe her. Maybe she would do that some day, and maybe he would believe her when she did.

But for now, he was fine with the relationship they had, hesitant for it to develop into anything more and ruin it. He gingerly reached out toward her, cupping her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him with red-rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks and smiled weakly at her, the confidence to do so completely new and unfamiliar to him. “Cheer up, sunshine. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Riley could remember smiling then as she laid her head down gently on his chest and the feeling it brought her when he hesitantly brought his hand up and placing it on the back of her head. That was the first time he’d ever called her that stupid nickname, but it grew on her very quickly.

“You kinda have a habit’a runnin’ right into danger, Ri.”

She looked up at Daryl as he crouched overtop of her, dressing the new wound on her ankle for her. She winced as as he tightened the ace bandage around it.

“Too tight?”

“No,” she bit the words out through gritted teeth, trying her best not to show her pain and give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. They both knew he was — but she was far too stubborn to let it show. It was an honest mistake, and she had no way to see the broken metal protruding from the ground where an old chain link fence used to stand. Anybody could’ve tripped over it and sliced their shin open through their jeans. “And for the the record, Dixon, trouble has a way of running right into me, thank you very much.”

He snorted in response, pinning the bandage securely in place before leaning back to observe her. “You good to walk?”

“Yeah, I’ll make it.” She pushed herself up to prove it, using a nearby tree as a crutch. He watched her skeptically, fighting a smirk when she hobbled just a step before her knee buckling under her weight and sent her tumbling back down to the ground. “Ugh, just leave me here. Go on without me.”

So he bent down, scooping her up bridal style even as she protested tiredly. “Shuddup,” he told her, “we’re almost home.”

She smiled again, though unintentionally, at the feeling his radiantly blue eyes and slight smile brought her. Her fingers scratched at the top of her bed longingly, before she was torn from her unconscious at the realization that whatever she was lying on was not her bed but rather some hard, cold surface that was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. She shifted uncomfortably, dull aches and pains taking over in waves, her head throbbing with every beat of her heart.

“Ho-o-o-me?”

Daryl chuckled quietly at her delirium as her head lolled to one side tiredly on his lap, her dazed eyes trying to blink away the sleep. He could see Alexandria approaching in the distance through the windshield, rising over the dark horizon.

“Yea, sunshine, we’re almost home. Go back ta sleep.”

“Alright, sunshine, up n’ at ‘em!”

The foreign voice instantly tore her from the safety of her dreams and she knew immediately it wasn’t Daryl, despite the nickname she’d grown so fond of being spat at her. It was definitely not him, and she was not home.

“Please, I need help. My daughter is starving, just.... please help us.”

Riley stared at the stranger, her greasy black hair falling in front of her hollow eyes. Her prominent cheek bones and protruding collar bones said she wasn’t lying -- what could her daughter possibly look like?

Torn, Riley looked to the dead rabbit she clutched in her right hand and then to her pistol in her left. The woman was filthy, frail, helpless and obviously scared. She seemed young, so there was no telling how little her daughter was. Did she give up her only kill for the day, or continue back to her meeting spot with Daryl to head home? She knew the guilt would weigh heavily on her if she did the latter.

So with a sigh, she stepped up toward the lady who flinched at the sudden movement. “Do you know how to skin a rabbit?”

She was met with wide eyes and a subtle shake of her head.

“I’ll show you. Where’s your daughter?”

The stranger had wept the entire ten minute trek as she led Riley to her camp, which turned out to be a small campfire next to one dirty sleeping bag with a little tent to the side. There was a garbage bag and one milk crate full of empty water bottles and Riley briefly wondered how they’d made it this long in these conditions.

But she also noticed that there was no little girl but then thought she might be in the tent as the lady made her way toward it quickly.

“Here, Maya,” she said quietly, reaching for the zipper on the flap. “The nice lady is going to feed you. See? Mommy told you she would take care of you.”

Riley gasped as a walker shot out of the tent, stumbling and falling from the rope around its feet that was tied to a cinder block inside the tent.

And before she knew it, she was thrown to the ground, the rabbit and her gun flying from her reach.

The dirty, emaciated woman wrapped her boney fingers around Riley’s neck, sobbing and babbling unintelligibly, managing to hold her down despite weighing maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet. Riley’s right hand fumbled blindly at her side for her gun with no success.

“I’m sorry!” The stranger cried. “I’m sorry! She’s so hungry. I’m a failure! I’m a failure!”

Struggling still as she ignored the black dots that littered her vision, she was driven by the snarls of what used to be a little girl chained up next to her, her the decayed flesh on her hands outstretched and tangled in Riley’s hair.

“I’m sorry.... I’m sorry... I’m — “

The lady stilled, words lodging in her throat, the grip she had on Riley’s neck releasing allowing her to gasp in the oxygen she’d been striving for. The deadweight on top of her still held her prisoner like a heavy blanket where she lay in the dirt, and suddenly the growls beside her were silenced as well, and then everything was still.

Riley strained to look around the corpse on top of her, panic rising rapidly, before she noticed the arrow protruding from the lady’s skull.

She exhaled a deep sigh of relief as the weight was torn from on top of her, a familiar voice grunting as it hoisted the body from its place on her and discarded to the side. But the moment of comfort didn’t last before her hero stepped up and she could feel the anger in his words.

“What the hell’s the matter with ya?” Daryl chastised her, rage glowing in his eyes as he yanked her to her feet. “Ya can’t jus’ fuckin’ run off, girl! Do I really have to tell ya every fuckin’ time? You gotta fuckin’ death wish or somethin’?”

He continued as his hands ghosted her body desperately in search of bites or scratches, his anger obviously stemming from worry. Riley knew that much by now, so she focused on regulating her breathing and calming herself down. She was embarrassed and the adrenaline was still coursing through her veins.

“How many times do I have to tell ya to fuckin’ stay with me? Huh?” He got even angrier when she didn’t listen, didn’t look at him. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, catching Daryl off guard as his hands fell to his sides. It wasn’t like her to cave so easily instead of snapping back at him, but she knew she had been wrong to take off after that stranger — very wrong. She had quite literally brushed with death and it was all because of her nativity. “You’re right.”

Daryl’s eyes bore into hers as she stood still, slowly bringing her hands up to rub the bruises already forming on her neck.

“I just thought... she seemed so...”

“I know,” Daryl sighed before retrieving his crossbow off the ground and, with his free hand, rubbing his face tiredly as he tried to simmer himself down. All of the anger had dissipated the second those words came out of her mouth. God, she could make him do anything in the world with just one word and one bat of those eyelashes. “I know ya mean well, Ri, but ya can’t just go runnin’ off alone to help everyone that asks. Ya can’t trust people like that no more. Ya know that.”

“I know.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly, savoring the familiar feeling of security and warmth, the next words tumbling out of her mouth before she could even try and stop them. “I love you, Daryl.”

Riley was ripped from the hard surface she’d been laying on, suddenly submerged in the hot light that enveloped her in a warm, comforting hug before she forced her tired eyes open, ignoring her pounding head as it pleaded for her to remain in the quiet darkness.

It was still fuzzy; the world around her was bright and hazy and she didn’t know what was real anymore and what was fiction. She could hear voices, unintelligible and unfamiliar, and a loud metal grinding and clanging somewhere close, too.

Blinking several times to try and clear the fog did nothing — in fact, she soon began to realize that it wasn’t just inside of her head but all around her, the air thick with smoke and smog. It was so dense that she could see it; it turned the sky reddened above her dark and gloomy. The scene looked like some post apocalyptic industry-based utopia, the metallic clanging getting louder and louder before a train engine roared to life beside her.

Holy shit, she thought, I haven’t seen a working train in years. Am I dreaming?

Once again she was forcefully pulled to her feet before being shoved harshly until her feet stumbled in front of another before she could remember how to walk. It helped her senses return, slowly but surely, and she noticed her hands were bound together with thick, coarse rope.

Her mouth was too dry to speak, and her head was still pounding, the debilitating throb hitting with each beat from her pulse, blood and adrenaline pumping through her veins.

She couldn’t see the person shoving her but she could see several people around her, all of them dressed similarly in some sort of leather or metal armor, some knee pads and shoulder pads with spikes protruding from them, some with gas masks covering their faces, others with welding helmets, all of them wielding some sort of weapon. Assault rifles, shot guns, scythes, sickles, spiked flails, guillotine swords. They looked like characters from a horror movie. Riley was speechless, absolutely shocked at the sight. What was first confusion and possibly anger had quickly turned into crippling terror.

She was lost. She had no idea where she was and, the more she thought about it, no idea how she got there, either. She had gone to help that guy in the woods — what was his name? Warner. And he was freaking out because somebody had taken his wife, Laura. The dead body in the woods — it looked an awful lot like the crowd of people wandering around her. She’d stopped to get a close look at it and that’s the last thing she remembered.

“I know ya mean well, Ri, but ya can’t just go runnin’ off alone to help everyone that asks. Ya can’t trust people no more. Ya know that.”

No, Daryl, apparently she didn’t know that.

Trudging down a sidewalk littered with garbage shell casings and broken glass that crunched underneath her feet, the wheels began turning in her head as they drug her carelessly along. She knew a few things for sure: one, she was alone; two, she was far away from home; and three — though she didn’t know exactly how yet — she knew that she was in for a lot of trouble.

And she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that Daryl wouldn’t be able to save her this time.

uh oh.... anybody guess the video game yet? hehehe

thanks for reading ch. 4 will be out friday :-)

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman@mtngirlforever@sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @qrangr@cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic@crazyaboutnorman@deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93@96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ima-mther-fckn-starboy@thatsoragan @lonewolf471

cover: background daryl i am the girl on the right lmao

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagine #twd drabble #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead drabbles #the walking dead daryl #daryl x oc

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hxlsteads · 6 years

Text

Dear Diary | Varchie

Pairing: Veronica Lodge x Archie Andrews

Summary: Set in S3/Post suspected Veronica & Reggie romance. After a long trial and an extended stay locked away, Archie returns home only to find the message he passed on for a broken-hearted girl, had more of an impact on him than he could’ve ever imagined. But what will it take for forgiveness? A bit of Angst with a side of Fluff. (New to writing varchie fanfiction so it may no be the best).

Prompts: #35, 59 and 93 - “When I first saw you, I knew you were the one”, “I never wanted to hurt you”, and “Sorry for ruining your shirt.”

Read on fanfiction.net or archiveofourown

I miss you. Even after replaying those words over and over in my head, my heart still longs for you Archibald Andrews and I don’t think it’s ever going to stop. People can call it a romance but the only romance I’ve ever truly felt was with you. The word rebound couldn’t even describe what he was because he was nothing. A drunken mistake that old Veronica would’ve brushed aside as though it were nothing. But it isn’t nothing. It’s a mistake that I regret and you don’t deserve it. Your words hurt me Archie and I guess when you’re away it’s like I go back to my old ways like nothing ever changed, but you changed me so I guess I should really apologize to myself for putting myself in a position where I shouldn’t expect you to forgive me...

Those were the very words etched onto the tattered pages within the book clasped tightly against Veronica Lodge’s chest as she approached to door that she knew all too familiarly now. The single words she hand-wrote as tears cascaded down her face with each passing moment, blemishing the ink of previous words until they were almost unreadable. Yet only she wishes this correlated to real life. So her tears can turn her mistakes into a piece of art- I mean, after all, blocking all this out and going back to when it never happened would be a masterpiece in its own right.

But it’s never that simple; she can’t just cover the way she’s hurting behind her smudged mascara. He’s back and she’s now having to deal with the mess she created, the actions she couldn’t take back. She only hoped that her words could somehow account for them. Even in the slightest form.

The fingers of her left hand grew tighter around the only physical depiction of the dark depths of her mind as she tapped lightly against the cold wood, feeling a mixture of the harsh Riverdale winter and a harsh rush of sudden regret beneath the surface of her skin. She no longer felt human, sure she felt the cold, sure she felt pain still- but she felt nothing for herself. To her brain she was nothing more than a glass figure, she can look fine on the outside, disguise herself as this beautiful person yet on the inside she was just hollow. She felt empty within her own thoughts but as the creak of the door pierces the wallowing pity and a brush of warm air tickles her exposed shins she’s forced to look up. Look him in the eyes for the first time in nearing forty days. Not that she’s been counting.

Archie Andrews. The guy who changed the as quoted ‘shallow, toxic rich bitch’ into ‘the best girlfriend’. ‘If only he could take back that given award now’ She thought to herself... He still looked the same. The orange tone to his hair illuminated under the warm light Veronica already knew was from his fireplace, his chocolate gaze that still melted her at the core and that stupid green long sleeve that she’d begged him endlessly to get rid of. Then again as she came to think more about it, the more she realized she missed it. Or more so that she missed him. She missed the way his awkward smile laced his features every time they’d kissed, she missed the frequent use of the name ‘Ronnie’ which only ever sounded good leaving his lips- truthfully; she missed feeling this captivated by a person. But I guess this caught up with her. Seconds passed and not a word was said. Not out of the thousands she’d written since arriving in Riverdale.

“Veronica...”

There it was. The first sound that escaped either of their lips and it had to be that. Her full name; diminished from the nickname she’d grown to adore. But what more can she expect? “Wh- what” Glancing down towards the object Veronica had within her palms, he spoke again. Softly, but with that underlying gruffness to his voice indicating he’d not long woken up.

“You’re either about to ask what I’m doing here or what I’m holding and I’m not sure I know a good answer to either,” Veronica mutters watching as Archie’s face contorts as he tries to find the right words to say next. Who would’ve guessed it would come to this? A simply flowing conversation being lost in a sea of unexplained moments and unanswered questions.

“Both.” he breathes a quick response, following his gaze back up to meet her eyes once more.

She huffed, releasing the pent-up pressure of the book against her chest as she outstretches her arm towards him. Archie’s body shifted awkwardly as her fingers swept unintentionally against his chest as he motioned to take the object for his own and she couldn’t help but notice. “It’s a diary. My diary. Four hundred and eighty-four days worth.”

He swallows hard, flicking through the pages nonchalantly with a slight hesitation leaving Veronica on edge. She just needed him to say something-anything and she held her breath for what felt like an eternity before he did murmur the slightest, “Ronnie...”

It wasn’t much but sure she’d take it. She’d take hearing that word any day as long as it came from him and only him. Her knight in shining armor; her broad shoulder to cry on. Yet it would never come without consequence; usually much nicer than the onslaught of tears that she was trying so hard to battle but whatever.

“Ron,” he heaved again, anticipation hitting Veronica like a ten tonne of bricks as she awaited for the first step into probably one of the deepest conversation she was ever going to have. “I don’t understand.”

Veronica immediately goes to speak yet cannot find the words, frozen in time and she couldn’t even break the ice to close her mouth and regather her thought. She just had to go for it. Take the dive straight into the murky depths. “I-” she begins, “I’ve been writing ever since I moved here. Every day until I ran out of pages but no-one knew because truthfully I was afraid Archie. Not of what people would think but because every single page I poured my heart out to you.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, pressing his palms to his eyes. “Veronica,” He stutters with every syllable and Veronica swears she’d never seen him look this vulnerable. But then again it was a rare occasion Archie ever shared his true emotions.

“I was so scared of getting my heart broken. Like all the times before. But they meant nothing compared to the boy in this book. And after your dad came to me and told me we were done and you didn’t want me to visit anymore I thought I could just toss everything like I did before but I just can’t. Not with you.” Veronica explains as she stares at his evidently tense muscles. Ones that she could see so clearly now even through the thick cotton of his shirt. That had so much as doubled in size since his incarceration.

“It’s my fault V--”

“It’s just not! I spent so long running from the way you made me feel that I never got to say half the things I have written in that stupid journal. And now I know it doesn’t matter anymore after everything that’s happened but I needed you to know.” Veronica stammers out; not even knowing half the pleads rolling off her tongue. She just couldn’t hold it in anymore... As much as she tried to; she wanted to she just couldn’t uphold that strong front she’d so effortlessly put up during her early days in the town. Pearl-like pendants cascaded one by one down the apples of her cheeks, not an inch of the strength she could muster up in the morning in sight. At this point, Veronica Lodge couldn’t care less about the reputation of her family name she was to uphold. She never did care around Archie. But she cared even less now knowing full well she had not a lot left to lose.

Dragging her thumbs underneath her eyes, puffy not from the sudden wetness that drowned the area but the sleepless nights that accompanied every evening since her world broke; she took one last breath of air. One last thing to say Veronica just while you’re here, she schooled herself before releasing her jaw once again and releasing more and more salty tears with the action, “I never stopped missing you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. And I’m sorry.”

After finishing her words she promptly turned around, wandering off back into the dark street, the only light being from the flickering street lam a mere yard away. She just couldn’t bear to face him any longer, to be there for the onslaught of words thrown her direction, all things defending her when she was so certain she was in the wrong. Archie was clearly cooking u something as he stood stoic, just staring and nothing more. Like his body was cast in stone that you couldn’t batter through; much like the established wall he puts up ninety percent of the time.

As she steps weakly further into the fog, fearing the trembling of her knees will collapse her heeled feet she hears her name. A beacon of hope in the form of a whisper. At first, as strange as it sounds she wasn’t quite sure if it was real life or all inside her head. Sure Veronica knew it was his voice, she could spot it from ten miles away but Archie grew to be the angel on her shoulder. The voice in her head persuading her to always make the right decisions. To be a better person...

“Veronica.” Archie called out after her but the lack of a change of direction either meant she didn’t hear him or she didn’t want to. But either way, he wasn’t going to allow her to just walk away. Not with the only words he’s been managing to say in return being her name with the occasional extra syllable scattered here and there. “Wait-” He calls louder, knowing for sure both she and all of his neighbors would’ve heard him. The cool air brushes against his skin and a lump forms at the back of his throat, hitching any future words as he makes his first physical contact with her in months. Sure he’d seen her, but the hand laced over one another separated by unbreakable glass didn’t quite amount to the immediate sparks felt each and every time their skin came into contact. Even only by, clutching his hand around her arm and tugging her slightly to come face to face there was no denying it. The undetermined; unexplainable connection her has with this girl. “I’m sorry. What happened- the fact you kissed Reggie; it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” She whimpers. “You can’t say that. I kissed that misogynistic pig, one of your best friends and arch-rivals. It can’t be fine Archie!”

“Well tough; because I forgive you Ronnie.”

“Why.” Veronica bawls, her tears now transforming more to resemble a waterfall than the light condensation found on every window pane in a crisp Riverdale October.

Archie gazes at her- strands of her hair that fell perfectly from that middle parting of hers and framed her face becoming waterlogged by her tears. So he does it; bites the bullet and runs his fingers against the softness of her cheeks, clearing away excess dampness as he does so. “Because I love you, Veronica Cecilia Lodge. And because from the moment when I first saw you, I knew you were the one, and because your eyebrow is adorably kinking because you’re trying your hardest not to smile right now. And most of all, because the biggest mistake I think I’ve ever made was breaking things off with you.” He begins, rubbing small circles on her face; an embrace worth a lifetime of hurt.

“I love you too. Archibald Andrews.” She lets out a shaky breath mid hysterics, before lunging herself into his chest, letting her tears soak the fabric gowning his shoulders. God how long she’d wanted to do this. To take a single moment to breathe in that scent, the same one that had been fading on that one bulldog's shirt she slept with nightly. To hold the boy in the locket that had saved her more times than she can relay. Too deep in her thoughts, she runs her fingers hastily up his chest, the bumps of his chiseled chest making it hard for her to conceal a blush as she wraps her palm around the small silver treasure tied around her neck. Replacing her father’s pearls...

But little did she need that anymore. She had everything she wanted; everything she needed. She found in her darkness that she didn’t need her fathers love to survive; but she needed the guidance of her greatest love story to show her the way. That’s how she was to survive.

Knowing truly it was Archie and Veronica against the world...

A/N - So it’s done. This wasn’t the original ending but I just could not get it to sound great or word it correctly so I may or may not do an alternate ending somewhen soon. But here you go! My first Varchie fic. I love these babies endlessly and can only hope this did them the slightest bit of justice! Anyways thank you for reading and let me know what you think! x x

#riverdale #varchie #varchie fanfic #varchie imagine #varchie fanfiction #riverdale imagines #riverdale fanfiction #veronica lodge #archie andrews #archie x veronica #archie andrews x veronica lodge #varchie oneshot #varchie imagines #riverdale fanfic #riverdale one shot

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morgans-mystics · 6 years

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hello, my best friend recently passed away, and i never got a chance to say goodbye. i was wondering if you had any tips to strengthen my senses to the spirit world so that i could one day communicate with her safely? any tips or posts you can lead me to would be a world of help. thank you!!

I’m very sorry for your loss. I know that feels hollow coming from a stranger but no matter how good your are at communication with spirits; its still not the same as having them here on this realm with us. Sometimes it’s better (depending on your abilities. Dreams and being an empath makes it nice). And in most cases it’s worse, but never the same.

And I’ll also be even more frank with you…. Spirit anything is an ability. People claim its a skill and in some cases it is. But for most, it’s an ability either you’re born with and heighten it or you just can’t. I was born able to feel, see and hear spirits…. But, I have a very difficult time with seeing them as I’ve gotten older. I’ve also been trying to OBE for YEARS; never happened.

I don’t mean to be pessimistic, I just want you to go into this calmy and rationally.

Now, with that out of the way, there’s MANY different methods to try and they’re all ‘safe’. In my experience, when we go into this scared or expecting the worst THAT is when any bad spirits try and latch on.

You can:1. Mediate. By far the safest because it’s relying entirely on you. Just sit or lay in a quiet and or peaceful setting, clear your thoughts, ask a question for your friend or just think of them and observe what comes yo you. Sounds, images, smells, feelings etc.

2. Divination. Many spirits have to communicate with us this way. Scrying (letting a spirit write with your hand. Basically meditate like above with a piece of pencil and paper loosely in your hand and see what happens!). Tarot cards (They all have messages and all these messages can be manipulated by spirits for us). Pendulums (Great for yes and no questions. A simple necklace will work).

3. Dreams. Write down your dreams every day you wake up. Ask her to visit you in your dreams. They hear you, believe me!

4. Symbols. Look to you everyday life for signs. That butterfly that won’t leave the porch, that one plant dying, those birds following you. It’s spirits way of reaching out to us but we’re all guilty of not paying attention to them (and some times, things really are just a coincidence. It's up to us to decide it )

Now…. On to safety.

I know I said these methods are safe and they are! But…. It’s 8/10 the person that’s not safe. Maybe a passing spirit heard us say outloud we wanted to see our friend so they imitate them. Maybe the person was unintentionally welcoming something into their home. It’s not the method itself as much as the person doing it.

So. Yes, spirits can read our thoughts unless we block them (warding. Imagining some type of shield around us with the intention of blocking.). They can enter our dreams (or more likely we leave our bodies at night and enter their realm.) They can change shape and form. Some can imitate others….. With all this in mind it’s very easy to accidentally give invitations to malevolent spirits thinking its our loved one.

1. When in doubt, trust your gut. If you get a weird vibe, end that shit asap! We ALL have intuition, its just a matter of following it.

2. Cleanse yourself and your space. It will not effect your friend, only your negative energy or negative energy around you. Burn sage or incense, wear a religous item, spray salt water in your space etc.

3. Ask a personal question only she would know and yet, think of something else entirely.Spirits can read our thoughts and this will deter any tricky bs from them. Say…… Her fav color was green. Ask the question but think of the color blue as hard as you can. Idc if you have to repeatedly say “blue, blue blue” in your head, do it! If they anwser green anyways then its a good chance its her! If they say blue then I would avoid them and try again later. If it happens a second time then I would cleanse my space and avoid contact for awhile because that most likely may be someone trying to trick you. If they say pink….. Well then you’re dealing with another entity and you know for a fact it’s not her.

That’s about the only advice I can give you. I wish you the best of luck and sincerely hope you can communicate with your friend.💜

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ends-of-the-wayward-storm · 6 years

Text

The Big Four--Through Moonlight--Book 1

Chapter 9--Pieces Coming Together

Summary

Why something decided to bring so many different people together from so many different places was beyond them. But it had to be for good reason. And that reason just happens to be an elusive enemy who is searching for a powerful artifact, one with an unfathomable amount of knowledge.

There was definitely one thing in question, however—was this enemy the real deal, or something else?

(AO3 version) (First chapter)

Gathered around a fire, both Régine and Chane stared into the dancing flames as Charles sat across from them. She missed home, and she knew the boys did as well. For all she knew, her parents were probably thinking she’s run away again, or worse. She wouldn’t blame them, really. She’s scared them once, and now she’s unintentionally scared them again. And of course she’s had her fair share of scares herself within the span of a few days. Speaking of scares . . .

“Chane,” Régine started.

“Yes?” he replied.

“I never really got the chance to thank you.”

Chane raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

She chuckled a bit. “You tried to save me from that dragon, even though you barely stood a chance against him.”

“Hmph. I didn’t know Her Royal Highness could be so humble.”

“Oh stop it!” Régine whacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “It’s called being polite.”

“Ow! Exactly!”

She merely rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help a smirk from forming.

“Nice to see you two are getting along again,” Charles commented with a smile.

Angus raised his head as he looked to the other side of the water. The horse neighed softly, and the trio followed his gaze. Studying the path, the men slowly got to their feet and drew their weapons while Régine simply stood at the ready.

“This better not be another one,” she muttered.

Charles stepped forward as running footsteps came within earshot, and soon the owner of those footsteps came into view. “Oh.” He lowered his sword. “It’s just a boy.”

“With . . . a raccoon.”

The boy in question slowed down before resting his hands on his knees. “I think . . . we . . . lost them.”

The raccoon poked his shoulder, and the boy looked to him before looking forward. A way’s down were three people by a fire, the men putting their weapons away as the girl’s shoulders relaxed. He had to blink a few times after seeing the fire actually ease its antsy flickering.

Pretty sure I have very little oxygen flow to the brain.

“Who are you?!” Chane called.

“I’m Varian! What are you doing out in a swamp?!”

“I could ask you the same question!”

“Wouldn’t it be more civilized if he came over here?” Régine pestered.

Chane grumbled a little before cupping his hands around his mouth. “Join us so we can speak properly!”

“On my way!” Varian called. He ran down the path and slid down a small hill, stopping at the water that separated him from the small group.

“Hold on. We’re sending the horse!” Charles said. He mounted Angus and turned the horse toward the other side.

“Um Charles,” Régine started.

“Yes Your High—” He stopped Angus in his tracks as he watched Varian walk across a fallen hollow trunk that was sturdy enough to hold him yet light enough for him to have pushed it onto the water. “Oh.”

“I’m uh, pretty resourceful, actually,” Varian replied simply. “And, I’ve kinda been looking for you.”

The trio exchanged looks.

“You guys were being chased by this mass of rocks, and for a guy that doesn’t believe in magic, I uh had to see if I was actually . . . y’know, seeing what I was seeing.”

“Finally! Someone who shares my belief!” Chane said.

“Really? What you’ve seen hasn’t changed your mind?” Régine snapped.

“Not one bit.”

“Anyway, my name is Charles, and this is Chane and Princess Régine Rosalie of Vig—”

“Just Régine, Charles,” the princess sighed.

“Princess?” Varian immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I am so sorry for intruding on anything, Your Highness.”

“Rise, Varian. You’re not intruding on anything.”

He looked up at her for a few moments before standing with a small smile. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to meet Ruddiger.” The raccoon gave her a friendly smile and a wave.

“How did you get all the way out here?” Chane asked.

“Well, if I told you, you probably wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try us,” Régine challenged.

~ ~ ~

“So, when do you think we’ll run into these ‘other contenders’ that witch mentioned?” Hiccup asked as he parted a bush.

“It could be longer before we find them,” Merida replied, yanking a tussock sedge free. “An’ we don’t even know wot they look like.”

“Well for starters, they probably won’t be from around here.” Finding another glass bottle, he tucked it under his arm. “You ever wonder why this ‘man on the moon’ picked us, of all people, to look for what’s arguably the most powerful book in the world?”

Merida’s head turned a bit.

“I mean, he sounds so powerful and mysterious. Why doesn’t he just come down and find it?”

“Maybe he’s not able to.”

“But there has to be more than that. What do we have that qualifies us to find it?”

Merida rested her hands on her lap, keeping quiet. “. . . We’re not like many others.”

Hiccup opened his mouth before closing it. “I guess I can agree with that. I mean, I was the first Viking to ever even think about riding a dragon, let alone training one. And well, eventually that lead to our feud with dragons to end.” Toothless nudged him. “Now we live with them.”

Merida smirked as she faced him. “Well, ah don’t know if you’ve noticed, but princesses are not supposed to have weapons. That’s wot mai mother used to say. Ahm the best archer in the kingdom and I can best any man with a sword. But my mother an’ I . . . we didn’t always see eye ta eye.”

Toothless’s ears rose, and a few minutes later a sopping wet reindeer skid to a stop right in front of them. He howled in fear at the sight of Toothless, and he floundered away from them.

“Woah woah woah easy! Easy . . .” Hiccup tried to soothe. The Viking calmly stood between the two animals, and this seemed to catch the reindeer’s attention. With the wet animal standing still, Hiccup was able to spot a harness. “Looks like he belongs to someone.”

Heatedly the reindeer gestured over his shoulder while snorting and stomping.

“Uhh,” Merida started. “It wants us teh . . . follow it?”

He snorted again, and Hiccup and Merida glanced to each other.

“All right, uh . . . show us, then,” Hiccup said, unsure.

Without a second thought the reindeer bounded off, and the trio had to run to catch up with him.

“I think we’re about to find those other contenders.”

“Or someone lost their pet,” Merida suggested.

It wasn’t much longer until Sven stopped near a waterfall. There on the ground were three unconscious and very wet people, and the group didn’t hesitate in rushing toward them.

“They’re freezing!” Merida yelped, snatching her hand away from the strawberry blonde girl.

“We need to get them back to camp,” Hiccup stated. “Toothless?”

While the dragon helped Hiccup get the older woman onto the saddle, the blonde-haired man began to stir. Sven’s ears swiveled around, and his tail began to wag as his best friend began to raise his head.

“Anna . . . ?” He groggily glanced to Merida, Hiccup, and— “Aaahhh!”

“And you’re awake!” Hiccup yelped, nearly dropping Elsa.

Before Kristoff could jerk his pick axe out, Sven slobbered all over him. “H-hey! Cut it out!”

The reindeer huffed and groaned for a few moments.

“Wait what?”

Sven sighed and repeated his motions at a slower pace, but a quizzical expression still remained on Kristoff’s face.

“And you’re not at all afraid of . . . whatever that thing is?”

“Dragon,” Hiccup flatly corrected.

“Dragon?”

“Yes. Dragon.”

Kristoff warily studied Toothless.

“If you come with us we have a small camp that most likely has a fire by now. You look like you need it.” A few seconds of silence went by.

“Fine, but Anna and Elsa are going on Sven.”

~ ~ ~

Fergus tailed his two Deerhounds as a group of five men on horseback closely followed their king. He could feel the vibrations of his horse pounding at the ground, his dogs’ barking mixing with the footfalls of the other horses. If anything were to happen to his little girl, he would make doubly sure that boy was sorry.

The dogs slowed their pace, making the men bring their horses to a stop. Both canines sniffed the area as Fergus dismounted. Strewn all over the area were dozens of rocks of all shapes and sizes. Chunks of tree bark were scattered everywhere, and both bark and rock bore scorch marks. Even patches of grass were scarred black, and the smell of burnt earth was very faint.

“What monster did this?” one of the men asked, his horse sensing his concern.

Upon closer inspection, Fergus noticed a couple of arrows lodged into a piece of bark, specifically where two apparent eye sockets would be. Yanking an arrow free, he fingered it as he examined it.

“There’s no doubt these belong to my daughter,” he concluded.

“Then she must’ve fought back against whatever beast caused this,” a second man added.

“What if that boy sent the beast on her?” a third asked.

Before Fergus could breathe a word, his dogs announced a lead. Both of them were standing at the hill’s crest, and a long way’s from where they were was a darkened area with thin tendrils of fog.

The dogs darted forward, and Fergus quickly gathered a few more arrows before mounting his horse.

“Come on!” Fergus ordered, and he whipped the reins of his horse.

(First chapter) (Next chapter) (Previous chapter)

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